


Angels on the Moon

by Writcraft



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Romance, Snarry-A-Thon17, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-23
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-11-03 16:14:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10970817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writcraft/pseuds/Writcraft
Summary: The aftermath of the war is almost as difficult as the war itself, Harry is a mess and Severus is a reluctant survivor forced back to Hogwarts to recuperate from his injuries. When a brick-bonding spell goes awry, Harry and Severus are forced to confront hatred, misunderstandings and a new and unexpected intimacy which takes them both by surprise.





	Angels on the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt asked for an old-school bonding fic but my muse took me to an ‘aftermath of the war’ place. However, I’ve worked to try to capture the student/teacher dynamic, the Hogwarts setting and the tropes of the old-school bonding fic (one of my favourite kinds of Snarry story) so I hope this satisfies the OP with apologies for the slight tweaking of the prompt. Harry has just turned 18 in this fic. Thanks as ever to the wonderful mods of **snape_potter** and in particular to torino10154 who is a wonderful friend and an incredibly patient person! The quote and title are inspired by Thriving Ivory’s song ‘Angels on the Moon.’
> 
> Prompt: An old-school bonding fic. The bond can be the result of an accident in potions or DADA class, or entered willingly for the war effort. It does not need to be sexual, but over time, feelings develop thanks to their shared magic, forced closeness, etc.

_And don't tell me if I'm dying_  
_'Cause I don't want to know_  
_If I can't see the sun_  
_Maybe I should go_  
_Don't wake me 'cause I'm dreaming_  
_Of angels on the moon_  
_Where everyone you know_  
_Never leaves too soon_

He comes to Hogwarts at the beginning of August, when the trees are turning the colours of Gryffindor House and most of the castle’s main structure has already been restored. Harry can’t help but feel he should have come earlier, when people were scrubbing blood off the floor of the Great Hall and trying to heal the fractured magic in the blasted bricks and mortar.

McGonagall doesn’t seem to mind his delay too much, peering at Harry over the top of her glasses before resting her hand on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Well here you are. Welcome back, Mr Potter.”

“Here I am,” Harry mutters. He scuffs the ground with the toe of his trainer and forces a smile when he meets McGonagall’s piercing gaze. “I’m sorry it took a while. I should have come sooner.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous.” McGonagall tuts and fiddles with the bun at the back of her head. “I wouldn’t have heard of you returning to Hogwarts a moment earlier. You would have had my full support if you hadn’t wanted to come back at all. Besides, there’s still plenty to do.”

“I’m glad.” Harry takes a breath and releases it in a slow exhale. He can do this. He might not have worked everything out yet, but he’s getting there. The nights don’t seem so long or so loud and he’s able to sleep for more than two hours these days. It’s progress, of a sort. “Who’s still here?”

“Ah.” McGonagall looks away, walking briskly and gesturing for Harry to fall into step beside her. “A few of the staff. One or two of your peers, although of course Miss Granger and Mr Weasley are taking their break before term starts afresh.”

“Yeah.” The knot in Harry’s chest tightens as he approaches the heavy castle doors, imagining Hermione coming to engulf him in a hug. It was a bit awkward, his last meeting with Hermione. She seemed nervous about telling Harry about her trip with Ron. Not that there was any need to be nervous. Harry’s pleased for them, really he is. He doesn’t want to go travelling around the world and besides, things are different now. Ron and Hermione are together. Properly together. They deserve to have a month to themselves to see a bit of the world. 

“Miss Granger plans to come back to finish her schooling, I understand?” McGonagall gives Harry a shrewd look.

“Definitely.” The cheer in Harry’s voice sounds false even to his ears. He clears his throat feeling strangely awkward. It’s a lot harder making polite conversation when there’s a dull ache in his chest and it’s as if his brain’s been replaced with cotton wool. He takes a breath. “Ron’s not, but you know that. We’re starting Auror training in September.” Harry shrugs, the thought of going from one battle into another not particularly appealing at the moment. 

“Congratulations.” McGonagall sounds thoughtful, and Harry wonders if his discomfort is apparent. “You know there’s always a place for you here if you choose to finish your education?”

Harry nods, a lump in his throat. He can’t imagine coming back to Hogwarts as a student. He might not know much about being an adult but the idea of playing Quidditch for Gryffindor, sitting in the Great Hall surrounded by a handful of people from his own year and a number of empty chairs makes his stomach roll. He understands why Hermione wants to come back. She wants to learn the things she missed during their last year. Kingsley made it abundantly clear that Harry wouldn’t need parchment rolls with a list of grades on to work with the Ministry and Harry couldn’t care less about finishing classes. He’s too tired and the war left him with a certain cynicism and restlessness which gets worse when he imagines being trapped in a stuffy room, trying to memorise potions ingredients or memory charms.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.” McGonagall’s voice softens and she holds open the door for Harry, letting him step inside the castle. “I’m afraid I’ve been left in the lurch by Madame Hooch swanning off – or should that be flying off – to recruit for the Harpies. I imagine Quidditch at Hogwarts will be far less entertaining as a result. Not to mention the new students won’t benefit from her expertise and I can’t think where I might find a suitable replacement at such short notice.”

“No, err. Right.” Harry only half listens to McGonagall as he breathes in the familiar atmosphere of the castle. Hogwarts always feels weird without the usual throngs of students milling through the corridors. The bricks hum with delicate magic and Harry can almost feel the painful process of restoration seeping through his pores. His skin tingles with it and his wand warms in his pocket. Harry’s torn between feeling as if he’s finally home and wanting to bolt for the nearest exit. Being within the castle walls again is unsettling and the memory of seeing Hogwarts for the first time assaults him in a powerful rush. He can almost see his younger self adjusting his oversized robes and nudging his glasses onto his nose, looking around with wide-eyed awe. He nudges his glasses up and runs a hand through his hair. He tries to remember how to breathe, regulating every intake of breath with each painstaking footstep. They walk together in silence, veering unexpectedly towards the dungeons.

“We’re not going to the Tower?” Harry thinks of the warm common room and the sweeping view over Hogwarts grounds. The thought of being in dank, dark dungeons doesn’t appeal in the slightest.

McGonagall gives Harry a quick look. “The area of the castle most in need of urgent repair before the students’ return is located by the Slytherin common room. It’s important that you, in particular, are perceived to be part of the effort to rebuild this particular area of the castle. I would very much like this term to begin without unnecessary animosity towards students who have had no hand in the events of the last few years.”

“Still, I didn’t think…” Harry pauses and he takes a breath, before shaking his head. “Never mind. It makes sense, I suppose. Staying close to where the work is.” 

“Here.” McGonagall pushes open a door to reveal a decent sized room with a desk and a roaring fire. A large bookcase covers one wall, full of leather-bound tomes. A small magical globe on the desk whirs on its axis. Little dots on the globe glow like stars and Harry takes a curious step closer, looking at the ornament as it casts out pinpoints of light from far-flung destinations. It’s peculiar, seeing the whole world reduced to a little magical ball which hums and shimmers as it keeps on turning, round and round. 

“I like this.” Harry brushes his fingers over the surface and its magic feels warm and soothing, like hot chocolate on a winter’s night.

“Ah, yes. An inventive take on the usual trinkets they sell in the tourist shops. It’s one of a kind.” McGonagall sounds almost fond. “Does this suit?”

“Yeah. I like it.” Harry smiles up at McGonagall, and this time it doesn’t feel so forced. Despite the lack of windows, a hole has been charmed in one of the walls to create the illusion of the world outside, with the sun setting on the day. The little space might not be Gryffindor Tower, but it’s cosy, warm and oddly familiar. It’s not at all what Harry expected. “Thanks, Professor.”

“Minerva will do, Harry.” McGonagall gives him a small smile. She clears her throat, casting a glance towards the open door. “I will let you settle in but before I do so, I must inform you of a rather unexpected development.” Her pleasant tone takes on a sharp edge and something in her manner makes Harry’s stomach sink.

“Unexpected?”

“He insisted.” McGonagall’s lips purse and her brow furrows. “Despite all of Poppy’s advice to rest and recuperate, the man simply can’t help himself. He’s hardly got the venom out of his veins and already he’s _refusing_ to slow down-”

“Snape.” Harry stares at McGonagall. “I’m working with _Snape_?”

“Professor Snape, Harry.”

“Oh, so I still have to call _him_ Professor, do I?” Harry huffs, a familiar frustration flaring within him. He’s about to protest when a distinctive form appears in the doorway.

“Minerva, what’s the meaning of this infernal racket?” A sallow, sickly looking Snape balks when he catches sight of Harry. “I do hope you’re simply giving Potter a tour of the castle. You’re fully aware I use this room for my reading.”

McGonagall clucks under her breath. “You have ample living quarters and a room of your own, Severus. Why you require a separate room is beyond me.”

Snape glares at McGonagall. “I keep extremely rare books in this room, students can’t just be allowed to paw at them-”

“I don’t want to paw at your mouldy old books.” Harry folds his arms and resists the urge to stick his tongue out at Snape. Now he comes to think of it, the bookcase and the desk in the room do remind him a little bit of Snape. There’s an inkwell and some half-written notes on the desk, with two quills discarded carelessly next to the rumpled parchment.

“A _word_ , Headmistress?” Snape’s voice is low and cold, his words leaving him in a hiss. He gives Harry another disdainful look, his dark eyes swooping over the length of Harry’s body.

“I’ll be along shortly, Severus.” McGonagall gives both of them a look. “I would like to remind you gentlemen that this project is about restoring more than just the castle.”

Harry chokes back a laugh, even though there’s nothing remotely humorous about the situation. It sounds hollow, ricocheting off the bricks. “Whose bright idea was this?”

“I didn’t expect Severus to be quite so involved at this juncture.” Minerva’s words are clipped and she glares at Snape. “He is, after all, supposed to be in the infirmary.”

“Poppycock. I’m quite recovered.” Snape looks down his nose at Harry. “I am also quite capable of managing this particular part of the project _on my own_. I have more aptitude in my little finger than Potter has in his entire body. I have no wish to supervise a student who has a tendency towards reckless behaviour.”

“Well I don’t particularly want to be supervised, thanks.” Harry draws himself up to his full height, which admittedly isn’t terribly intimidating. “I’m going to be an Auror, I don’t need you watching over my shoulder like an enormous bat.” He catches McGonagall giving him a disapproving look and adds, “Professor,” as an afterthought.

“An _Auror_?” Snape’s eyes glint and he gives Harry a sneer. “Well, well. Here he is, come to save us all. Harry Potter, Ministry protégé extraordinaire. How _kind_ of you to bestow us with your presence, Potter. Should I start calling you Auror Potter now so you can feel self-important? Perhaps you’d like me to curtsey?”

Harry clenches his hands into fists, fury rolling through his veins. Snape makes him so bloody angry, his whole body’s hot with it. “I was just saying I don’t need someone watching over me. I can do magic without your help.” More out of sheer bloody mindedness than anything else, he takes his case out of his pocket and turns it back to its regular size with a flick of his wand. He sends it towards the bed and yanks the chair away from the desk, sitting down. He stretches his legs out, crossing them at the ankles and folds his arms. He meets Snape’s furious gaze with a tilt of his chin. “This room is perfect. Much better than the Tower.”

“Well.” McGonagall gives Harry a look over the top of her glasses, her lips pursed. “Then it’s settled.”

“A _word_.” Snape grips McGonagall’s elbow and she shakes him off with a glare in his direction.

“May I remind you, Severus, that Harry’s help with this particular part of the restoration project will vastly improve the chances of the Slytherin students – who will be under your care – having a much easier time during these coming months. A little press and a demonstration of improved interhouse relations would serve to benefit us all. This is not the time for personal vendettas or childishness.”

Snape’s pale face turns even paler, his dark eyes fixed on Harry. He jabs a finger in Harry’s direction. “And Potter? Does the same lecture apply to him?”

“Of course,” McGonagall replies. She glances at Harry. “I can be assured of your professionalism in this matter, I assume?”

“Yeah, no problem.” Harry pulls a face. He finds his gaze drawn to the little globe again and wonders if Snape made it. He can’t help but watch it move, a curious feeling of calm stripping away the anger from before. It gnaws at him, a strange sadness and uncertainty, and the bluster from a few moments ago ebbs away. He speaks more firmly this time, meeting Snape’s gaze. “I’m sure we can manage, Professor. I promise not to get in your way.”

Snape makes a strangled sound. He adjusts his robes and sniffs, turning back to Minerva. “Might I ask how you anticipate this working?”

McGonagall nods. “You have rather different strengths, you and Harry.” Her lips tilt upwards at the corner and she gives them both a fond look which makes Harry squirm a bit in his seat, feeling more under scrutiny than he has in quite some time. “Different strengths, and yet…”

“Yes?” Snape snaps out the word, his voice clipped and tight.

“And yet Albus always seemed to think you two have rather more in common than you perhaps realise.” McGonagall holds up a hand as Harry stands and Snape splutters indignantly. 

“Albus was a meddling old fool.”

“He was not!” Harry advances towards Snape but a flick of McGonagall’s wand sends him firmly back into his seat.

“Now, now, gentlemen. It’s simply an observation. I believe your skills will prove complementary if you can simply learn to work _together_. Perhaps it might be good for you?” McGonagall gives Harry another look which makes him feel as if he’s being ripped open and Snape and McGonagall can see the inside of him. He looks down and rubs his forehead more out of habit than anything else.

“We can try, I suppose,” Harry mutters. He really does want to help McGonagall out. It’s not her fault Snape is an arse.

Snape rolls his eyes before leaving the room in a huff, slamming the door behind him.

“That went well.” Harry shrugs at McGonagall. She looks pensive, tapping her finger against her lips and staring at the closed door. She turns back to Harry after a moment. 

“Perseverance, Harry. I think you may find Severus is…somewhat different to the man you think you know. It simply takes a little effort to see beneath the surface. Don’t be too quick to assume you understand him.”

The tug of uncertainty pulls at Harry’s insides and the knot in his chest returns. He nods, struggling to find the right words. He can’t imagine ever knowing Snape as anything other than a miserable bastard, but a twinge of doubt tells him not to push too hard. “Okay.”

“Well, then.” McGonagall glances at the magical window where the dusk is slowly turning to night. She flicks her wand to bathe the room in cosy candlelight. “I shall leave you to settle in. I’m afraid we don’t have enough people in the castle for formal dining, but the house-elves are at your disposal and I’m sure they would be more than happy to create whatever you fancy.”

“Just a sandwich is fine.” Harry smiles at McGonagall and says goodnight, before fingering the discarded parchment on the desk. Snape’s familiar, spidery hand covers the pages in small etchings and part of Harry feels as if he shouldn’t intrude. In the end, he calls for food and gathers up the parchment before settling down to read.

*

Harry wakes with a shout in the middle of the night, his throat hoarse from yelling in his sleep. His mouth is like sandpaper and his heart pounds restlessly against his ribs. A shadowy figure in the doorway makes him scramble for his glasses and his wand, his chest tight with fear.

“Potter!” The familiar voice stops Harry in his tracks and a slim, pale hand grips Harry’s arm as he reaches for his wand. How did Snape move that bloody quickly? Harry’s conscious of his bare torso and he tugs the covers up with a hiss, shoving his glasses on his nose, bringing Snape into sharp focus.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?”

Snape’s lips curl into a sneer of displeasure. “I was working on restoration spells and I thought you were being murdered in your bed. Next time, I will let them kill you.” His pale face takes on a cruel veneer. “For a soon-to-be Auror your ability to react quickly to any possible threat is woeful.” Snape fingers his wand, watching Harry. In his black robes it’s difficult to tell where the shadows begin and where Snape ends. “I could have slit your throat before you even realised I was in the room.”

“I was _asleep_.” Harry sits back against the pillows, deflated. “I suppose you sleep with one eye open, do you?”

“I have mastered a heightened state of awareness at all times.” Snape sounds smug. His lips purse. “Can I expect this kind of display from you every evening? The wall between our quarters is thin and I can hardly be expected to work without adequate sleep.”

Harry stares at Snape, really wishing he could just push him or punch him or _something_. “You weren’t even asleep. You said so yourself.”

“I was, however, close to a break-through of sorts.” Snape pockets his wand. “You haven’t answered the question.”

“I can’t help the fact I have nightmares.”

“Then perhaps you might want to consider a silencing charm so your racket doesn’t raise the whole castle.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry mutters. The blanket has slipped from his shoulders to his waist and he bunches his hands into it. When he looks up, Snape has a strange look in his eyes and his gaze drops to Harry’s chest. It sends an unexpected heat through Harry and he can feel the colour rising in his cheeks. He swallows and tries to think of something – anything – to say which might break the silence. “I like your globe.”

Snape’s eyes snap upwards and a flicker of surprise crosses his features before they become unreadable once more. “A Muggle gift. I made a few magical modifications.”

“I like it.” Harry rubs at his forehead and he glances at Snape out of the corner of his eye. “I’m okay now. I’ll do the thing with the charms.”

Snape pauses, glancing towards the globe. Eventually, he looks back at Harry. “Given the fact Minerva would never forgive me if anything happened to you, perhaps it is wise to leave the charms for the time being.”

“The war’s over. There’s nothing to be worried about anymore.” Harry curls his fingers around the blankets and tugs them up a little. The ache in his chest is back again as the worst bits of his dreams begin to come back to him, like waves lapping on a deserted beach. He shivers and looks away from Snape. “I’m fine.”

“Indeed.” Snape doesn’t sound convinced. “Nevertheless, no charms.”

“No charms,” Harry agrees.

After a moment, Snape leaves the room without so much as a goodnight. It takes Harry a long time to fall asleep as he sits up in bed, staring at the shadows on the walls.

*

“I assume you’re familiar with basic brick bonding?”

“I’m eating breakfast.” Harry looks up at Snape, standing in the doorway to his room. Snape’s as fastidiously buttoned up as ever and he casts a disdainful look at Harry’s breakfast.

“Thank you, Potter. Unlike you, I have impeccable eyesight. However, there’s no time for dawdling.”

“I’m _eating breakfast_.” Harry grits his teeth and glares at Snape. “It’s half eight in the morning.”

“Yes, and we must begin promptly at nine.” Snape turns his eyes to the ceiling. “I imagine I’ll have to walk you through everything and we have precious little time as it is.”

“You won’t have to walk me through anything.” Harry has a mouthful of bacon and chews deliberately slowly, just to irritate Snape. “Apart from that brick bonding thing. I don’t know how to do that.”

“Of course you don’t.” Snape glares at Harry.

“How would I know how to build a bloody magical wall? I’ve never had to bond any bricks before, you know what they teach us.” Harry finishes his last mouthful of eggs and dabs at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “I’m a quick learner, though.”

“Having had the dubious pleasure of teaching you for longer than I care to remember, I can assure you, you are no such thing.” Snape flicks his wand to send Harry’s plates off god knows where, together with his half-drunk mug of tea.

“I was drinking that!”

“Oh dear.” Snape’s lips curve into an unpleasant smile. “Come on then, Potter.”

“ _Fine_.” With a huff, Harry flicks his wand to make his bed. He trudges after Snape, giving the heavy door next to his own room a curious look. He wonders what Snape’s quarters look like. He thinks of the rumours of bats and coffins, not to mention the slightly saucier rumours about Snape’s kinky proclivities. The same heat from the previous night floods through Harry and he tries to push those thoughts to one side.

“Has the kneazle got your tongue, Potter?”

“What?” Harry looks up at Snape, hoping his cheeks don’t look flushed. “Nope. I wasn’t thinking anything.”

Snape arches an eyebrow, scrutinising Harry. After a moment he turns away, pointing to a hole blasted through a large wall which exposes part of a dusty dormitory which Harry assumes must be where some of the Slytherin students sleep. 

“Our first task.”

“This doesn’t look too bad.” Harry steps through the hole, looking up at the ceiling. Everything seems to be intact aside from the gap between the corridor and the bedroom. “It’s just filling the hole with bricks. We’ll easily get this done.” His heart lifts a bit. Perhaps one day with Snape won’t be so bad. He can ask to be relocated to another part of the castle after that. He might not have to spend all his time in the dungeons after all.

“This isn’t a case of building a Muggle house, you little twit.” Snape levitates a brick and Harry watches as it hangs in the air. Snape sends it towards the hole in the wall and it nestles in place. After a moment the brick begins to tremble and a low sound emits from the place the new brick sits beside the others. It’s not loud, precisely. Not a scream or a cry, but Harry can feel the pain of it. It sets his teeth on edge and he steps backwards until he’s next to Snape, surprised by the fact he finds the solid warmth of the other man’s body almost comforting. A deep sorrow claws through him and tears prick behind his eyes, which he rubs at furiously.

“ _Stop_.” Harry grips onto Snape’s arm and Snape flicks his wand as the murmuring dissipates. There’s a hazy glow where the brick once sat and Harry gulps in a breath, looking at the innocuous brick on the floor. “What _was_ that?”

“Hogwarts, Potter.” Snape gives Harry a calculating look. “It appears as if the castle’s magic has quite an impact on you.”

“You could say that.” Harry resists the urge to edge closer to Snape because it’s _Snape_ , but there’s something in the low undercurrent of his magic which is inexplicably soothing. Harry’s reminded of the little globe with its curious pinpoints of light and he swallows. “Doesn’t it feel like that for you? Couldn’t you hear it?”

“A little.” Snape continues to look thoughtful. “I believe Minerva may have anticipated this.”

Harry resists the urge to snap at Snape with his vague statements and confusing way of looking at Harry as if there’s something he hasn’t seen before. “Anticipated what, exactly?”

“Have you always absorbed magic in this manner?” Snape’s gaze flicks up to the scar on Harry’s forehead. “Or is this something that’s happened after the war?”

“I don’t know.” Harry presses his lips together, trying to think. His head still feels woozy but it begins to clear as the sounds from the castle finally recede completely. “I’ve never felt the castle like that.” He thinks of the way he reacted to Dementors and the strange, powerful rush of emotion when he casts a Patronus. He draws his wand, feeling the hum of his own magic through his veins, and he shrugs. “I’ve always felt magic when it’s there, like in that globe of yours. It’s a bit more obvious now, particularly at Hogwarts. Doesn’t everyone have that?”

Snape’s eyes narrow and he studies Harry. “To an extent. The globe, you say?” Snape’s closer to Harry now and there’s a warm rush which creeps through Harry’s skin. It’s not how Harry expects Snape’s magic to feel. To the contrary. He expects something slimy and cold. Darkness, with an edge of cruelty. Instead he feels nothing but heat and power which slides through his veins. He can almost taste it on his tongue. It’s not sweet, but it’s not bitter, either. It’s got an edge of pain to it and there’s something deep and protective in the way the magic envelops him. He closes his eyes and breathes in, nodding. He can’t speak. He feels almost like he wants to cry again or like he wants to push close to Snape – too close. The sensations become more like a caress and Harry’s lips part because _no, no, no_.

“Stop it, stop it!” He steps back from Snape, nearly stumbling and stares at him as he catches his breath. “Don’t. Don’t do that again.”

Snape’s pale cheeks flare pink as he watches Harry, a look of barely concealed surprise on his sharp, narrow features. “I wasn’t doing anything, Potter. I was merely casting spells.”

“Well bloody stop it, whatever it was you were doing.” Harry runs his hand through his hair. “Is this going to be a problem?”

Snape looks pensive. “I don’t believe so. In fact, it may work to our advantage.”

Harry thinks of walking alongside McGonagall and the pleasant, reassuring hum of magic he felt from her as they made their way to the dungeons. It was there, the assured confidence and strength of her ability, but it was nothing like Snape’s magic. He couldn’t taste McGonagall’s magic on the tip of his tongue and it didn’t move over his sensitised skin like a caress. He felt more from the globe in his bedroom before Snape even showed up on the scene than from anything else in a long time. He shakes his head, trying to clear it.

“It’s you. You’ve done something.”

“I can assure you, I have not.” Snape’s expression flickers and he looks almost uncomfortable, his forehead creasing into a frown. After a moment he gestures to the brick on the ground. “We must get back to the business at hand. Enough time has been wasted on your dramatics.”

Harry snorts with humourless laughter. “My _dramatics_? Are you always such a pillock?”

“Language, Potter.” Snape picks up the brick, his back to Harry. “I believe even your distinctly less than agile mind should have been able to grasp it’s not as simple as gluing a few bricks together.”

A wave of anger passes over Harry and he glares at Snape. “Yeah, got it. Thanks for that.”

Snape sniffs. “We need to ensure the bricks are bonded together with something other than a bit of wet cement. This isn’t about hard labour. It involves intricate magical finesse, a combination of-”

“-Professor?” Harry tries to keep his voice level, rolling his eyes at the way Snape’s eyes gleam as if he’s about to go off on one about _bottling fame_ and _brewing glory_ or some such bollocks. “Why don’t you just tell me the spell?”

“Very well.” Snape sounds displeased at being cut off mid flow. Well, good. Perhaps he’ll understand how it feels next time he tries to cut off Harry. He murmurs the spell, showing Harry how he weaves magic into the brick. The sensations grasp at Harry again, the magic like soft fingers running along his skin. It gives him goosebumps and he holds his breath as Snape works. Eventually, after what seems like forever, the brick slots into place. Harry braces himself for the same powerful rush of grief and anguish, but there’s nothing. The brick seems to glow and the wall almost shivers before it settles into place. 

“Can I have a go?”

Snape looks doubtful. “Perhaps you should observe first. Or practice on your own.”

“Naff off,” Harry mutters under his breath. He picks up a brick and copies Snape’s casting, taking care to keep his movements slow and methodical. He holds his breath as the brick moves into place and heaves a sigh of relief when it settles, just so. “There. That wasn’t so hard.”

“No.” Snape looks surprised, appraising Harry almost as if he’s going to compliment him. Then he scowls and gestures to the large stack of bricks. “Well carry on, then. We don’t have all day.”

Harry glares at Snape and then picks up another brick, letting the magic flow through his veins and trying to ignore the peculiar caress of Snape’s magic as Snape casts his own spells a few feet away from Harry.

*

Harry’s back aches and he stretches, the silence between him and Snape not exactly pleasant but bearable. He reaches for another brick and begins to cast, his mind wandering a little. He can’t explain why he feels as he does when Snape’s close to him. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt that kind of thing before – the thrum of magic which seems to get into his bones. He wonders why that is, when he hates Snape more than anything. He thinks of McGonagall’s suggestion that they might have something in common and he pulls a face. A cramp in his leg jolts him out of his reverie and he stands, his wand shooting upwards as he trips on a nearby pile of bricks. The intricate magic wavers around him and envelops him and Snape, pulsing through Harry in a shocking flash of heat which makes him cry out in pain.

“You imbecile!” Snape stops what he’s doing and advances on Harry, a look of undisguised rage on his pale face. He presses his face close to Harry with a snarl. “What in the name of blazes have you done?!”

Harry doesn’t care. Every single emotion from his childhood suffering under Snape’s cruel gaze seems to well up within him. He’s eleven again - wanting to be accepted and trying to impress his new professor. He’s begging for Sirius’ life. He’s watching Snape’s cold _Avada Kedavra_ shoot straight at Dumbledore’s heart. He’s in Snape’s memories and _James Potter, James Potter, James Potter_ rolls through his head with a cold laugh and a sneer of _just like his father_. He can hear Sirius shouting something and sees his dad laughing. He sees Snape watching Sirius with his face etched with hatred. It’s as if every sorry moment of Harry’s time with Snape decides to come bubbling to the surface and Harry can’t breathe with the sheer force of it slamming through his body. He hates Snape. _Hates_ him. He pushes his hands against Snape’s chest and watches as Snape stumbles backwards a little, a look of surprise crossing his slim features. Well _good_. Harry pushes Snape again and again. He pushes him and beats his fists against Snape’s chest, his own chest heaving. He only stops when Snape catches his wrists and holds them firm.

“Potter.” It’s mortifying. The pain of the oddly cast spell claws at Harry but it’s combined with a fierce, unbidden arousal and a moan leaves his lips which sounds so, so loud in the still air between them. He tips forward and sways unsteadily on his feet. Firm arms wrap around him and he hears Snape again, more urgent this time. “ _Harry._ ”

“Hurts,” Harry says. His mouth feels like lead and the word falls from his lips, sluggish and slow. 

“I know.” Snape doesn’t sound furious anymore. He sounds almost scared. Harry hears murmured voices behind him and he wonders what people will think if they find him collapsed in the arms of Severus Snape. Still, he can’t bring himself to move. There’s something unexpected in the way Snape holds him and runs a steady hand down his back. He sounds so far away and Harry can feel himself slipping. Sirius gets louder, shouting something and _no_. Harry isn’t ready to go there, he doesn’t want to leave. He grips onto Snape’s robes as if he can yank himself back into the present and chase away the voices of the dead. He hears Snape snapping out orders and more hands clutch at him, some cold and some warm. Harry focuses on Snape, on breathing in his magic and the tendril between them which seems to keep Harry in place. “Can you stand?” Snape asks.

Harry shakes his head. He’s so tired. He just wants everything to stop. Snape, the voices and the strange flashes of pain through his limbs. He tries to move back to catch his breath, but he ends up staggering and the pain shoots through him in a heated rush. 

As darkness covers him like a shroud, the last thing Harry hears is Snape muttering his name and the sound of something screaming deep within the castle walls.

*

It’s dark when Harry opens his eyes, blinking into the void. There’s a murmur of voices beside him and he can vaguely make out McGonagall’s crisp, Scottish accent and Snape’s clipped voice. He turns and reaches for his glasses and the voices stop. He nudges them onto his nose and in the dim light he can make out Snape and McGonagall, standing side by side. He’s in his room and the little globe sends out a soft light together with a couple of candles. The magical window shows only darkness outside and a handful of stars.

Snape looks tired, his eyes shadowed and his face sallow. His eyebrows knit as he contemplates Harry. He doesn’t look cross but he also doesn’t look pleased to see Harry. His cheeks have a light dusting of colour in them and he exchanges a long glance with McGonagall which makes Harry feel cold.

“Potter. You’re awake”

“I…yes.” Harry’s surprised to find his voice works okay, although it’s a little rough around the edges. He clears his throat, the moment of his misstep coming back to him. “I’m sorry. I messed things up. I don’t know what came over me.”

Snape snorts and he waves a hand at McGonagall. He sits at the desk with his back to Harry, but Harry doesn’t miss the peculiar, defeated look on his face. “Do you want to give Potter the good news or should I?”

McGonagall casts a glance at Snape and then sits in another chair, positioned close to Harry’s bed. He has a vague recollection of strong arms settling him onto the mattress and the frantic whisper of a voice that sounded like Snape murmuring _don’t let him die – for god’s sake, don’t let him die_. Harry swallows. Dreams, all of it. Just dreams.

“I’m afraid there’s been a rather…unforeseen development as a result of the miscast spell.” McGonagall appears to be picking her words carefully. “I don’t want to alarm you-”

Snape growls. “That is only guaranteed to alarm the boy further.”

McGonagall glares at Snape. “Do you wish to tell him?”

Snape turns to stare at Harry, his face etched in a fierce scowl. “Your stupidity has irrevocably changed your life and mine. Due to your idiocy we are now in a position I can assure you _neither_ of us wish to be in and if I wasn’t unlucky enough to find myself bonded to you I would be inclined to wring your wretched little neck and take points from every student in Gryffindor to ensure they would have no hopes of winning the House Cup for the next forty years!” Snape’s voice gets louder and more furious as he talks, his eyes flashing.

“It was an accident, you bloody idiot. An _accident_.” The warmth of the room does nothing to appease Harry and he struggles to sit up, clutching the covers around him. “What does he mean, bonded?”

“You and I are _husbands_ , Potter. Is that clear enough for you?” Snape sneers at Harry, who feels an icy dread settle in the pit of his stomach. “Or we may as well be.” He raises an invisible glass in Harry’s direction. “Congratulations on making a _fine_ match.”

“Severus!” McGonagall flicks her wand, sending lights blazing in the room. Her face is pinched with anger. “There will be none of that. This is not the way to handle-”

“Stop it.” Harry’s voice builds into a yell. “STOP IT!” He tries to steady his breathing, his whole body trembling as a wave of nausea passes over him. “What’s he going on about? Tell me what’s going on.”

McGonagall turns her attention from Snape and pats Harry’s hand. It does nothing to reassure him. “Pay Severus no mind. The spell you were trying to cast was intended to magically bind bricks together. When you slipped, it appears the spell latched on to you and Severus. In doing so you formed a _temporary_ bond between you both which I can assure you we will work to sever as quickly as we can.” She gives Snape a look. “ _Husbands_ is hardly an accurate description of the position. There is no romantic compulsion to the bond in the slightest.”

Snape mutters something under his breath which Harry can’t catch. He stares at McGonagall. “I should bloody well think not. He’s….” Harry stops himself as he sees Snape’s face twist and remembers the catcalls of _Snivellus_ as Snape trailed through the corridor, books in hand and his head bowed as if he wished to avoid another barbed comment. Even now, his shoulders tense and the colour leaves his skin as he watches Harry with his lips twisted in displeasure. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for Harry to say the word. _Ugly_. Almost as if doing so will confirm exactly what Snape’s always thought. Harry meets Snape’s gaze head on, refusing to bow down to the intensity of the stare. “He’s a _man_.”

Snape’s shoulders relax and a momentary flash of surprise ghosts over his face before disappearing. He shakes his head and turns away from Harry once more. “Of course. Your presumed heterosexuality is the problem.”

“What does he mean, _presumed_? There’s nothing presumed about it.” Harry’s aware he sounds a little manic and McGonagall pats his hand again. He yanks it away. “It’s not presumed. I’m seeing Ginny.”

“Oh?” Snape looks around the room. “Where is the lovely Miss Weasley now, then?”

“Well, she’s in Wales playing Quidditch. We haven’t seen each other for a bit, but that doesn’t mean anything.” Harry thinks of the long letter from Ginny in his drawer at home. It might have said something about taking a break and finding themselves, but that’s only temporary. When Ginny gets back to Hogwarts and Harry’s at the Ministry they’ll find their way again. Even if Ginny’s a bit like a sister and Harry feels weird kissing her. Even if he doesn’t particularly want to do any of the stuff Ron’s told him about, flushed-faced and speaking in hushed tones. They’re Harry and Ginny. It’s great. Or it will be, once Harry sorts himself out. Won’t it? “Anyway, it doesn’t matter what’s going on with Ginny, it still doesn’t change the fact I don’t like wizards.”

“This is ridiculous.” Snape stands and he glares at McGonagall. “The boy doesn’t even understand himself and I can’t be expected to help him to do so.”

“You can, and you will.” McGonagall’s voice is low, but firm. “Sit down, Severus.”

“He’s a _child_ ; of all the things I have had to do during the war, nothing required me to suffer this kind of indignity.” Snape’s eyes flash. “I will not be _that man_.”

“Hush, I’m fully aware of the kind of man you are Severus.” McGonagall gives him a small smile. “Even if you wish to deny it.”

Snape makes a strangled sound and sits back down with a huff. His long fingers trace the path of the lights under the globe and it spins beneath his fingers. Harry watches for a moment, letting the lights calm him before he can speak again.

“I’m not a child.” Harry nods towards Snape. “Whatever he thinks, I’m not. I’m eighteen and I’ve seen and done far more than most people my age-”

“Yet you remain wilfully ignorant in matters of the flesh and the heart,” Snape mutters.

Harry glares at him. “I don’t know what the blazes you’re on about, matters of the _heart_. You can’t tell me what I like.”

“No.” Snape looks up, his eyes boring into Harry’s. “I can’t. Which makes this whole situation even more wretched.”

Harry takes a breath, his mind whirring. He tries to pull together the snippets he’s been told. “I need more details. You can’t just go on about husbands and bonds and expect me to have a clue what you’re talking about.” He looks to McGonagall. “I want a proper explanation. Not to mention ideas on how we break it. Castle walls get knocked down all the time, it’s why we’re here. Surely we just need a spell.”

Snape lets out a cold laugh. “Brilliant, Potter. How fortunate I am to find myself bonded to someone with such an agile mind. Why didn’t I think of that? We should simply use a spell that will tear us apart. A spell like the ones that blew holes in Hogwarts, leaving nothing but dust, broken bricks and mortar in their wake. I imagine that will be quite painless. Athough of course, with your propensity to survive every danger you will doubtless recover, whilst I’ll probably lose several limbs and my life in the process.”

Harry pushes off the covers, too hot all of a sudden. His legs still feel a bit shaky but he manages to sit up well enough to feel less like an invalid. He’s still clothed, mercifully. “This is why I’m asking for more information. I can hardly come up with ideas if I don’t even know what you’re going on about.”

“Here.” Snape closes a heavy book on the desk with a snap and flicks his wand, sending the book thudding onto the bed next to Harry. “Page thirty-five. It’s not an exact match, but I believe it’s the closest.” 

Harry opens the book, reading carefully. The more he reads the tighter his chest feels. The pictures are of witches and wizards – wizards and wizards – witches and witches, all looking at one another with adoration. In one particularly compelling picture two wizards cling together with their arms wrapped around one another and their torsos bare. They both have tattoos on their arms which move and twine across their biceps. Harry shifts uncomfortably, a pleasant tug in his abdomen. He puts the book over his lap, trying to fight the heat which rises in his cheeks. A soft snort of derision from Snape’s direction makes him look up, his anger returning.

“You think it’s funny, do you?”

Snape gives Harry a bland look. “To the contrary. I think the notion that you and I could ever enjoy that kind of intimacy is appalling.” Snape’s eyes fix on Harry, his gaze intense despite his blank expression. “You can see that there is a certain degree of affection required in order to bond humans which neither you nor I possess.”

“Then how did this even happen?” Harry looks to McGonagall.

“We’re not entirely sure. Severus has a theory-”

“Not yet, Minerva.”

There’s a pause and Harry wants to throw the book at Snape’s head. “I’m part of this, you’ve got to tell me everything.”

“My idle speculations are of no use to anyone at this juncture.” Snape’s lips twist. “What I _will_ tell you, are the facts. You have cast a spell intended for two inanimate objects which has somehow decided to latch onto us. I believe this particular kind of marriage bond is the closest match due to its requirement for proximity – physical intimacy of a sort, together with a few additional features. It is with that intimacy that the bond strengthens.”

Harry prods at a sentence in the book. “It says this isn’t really used anymore. Why not, if it’s a marriage bond?” He thinks it sounds quite nice, in a way. Sharing magic and being close with someone. His stomach twists as he realises that someone is Snape, who currently looks as if he wants to throttle Harry.

“The original magic is designed to forge a connection between two bricks, to bind the stone together. When the bricks are placed together, it is the magic which flows between them which allows them to hold firm. Humans tend to require a little more independence from one another. Marriage bonds have been refined over the years so they can be easily dissolved at the request of one or both parties. This kind of bonding spell has been abused before due to the fact it’s difficult to break and it requires a certain level of contact between individuals who might go on to realise they can’t stand the sight of one another. The irony of this particular spell is that the worse the relationship is between the two parties, the harder the bond is to break.” 

Harry swallows, his throat tight. “Our relationship’s pretty rubbish.”

Snape _harrumphs_. “What insight you display, once again.”

“Shut it,” Harry mutters. He looks at the picture of the wizards twined together “So we have to combine our magic somehow to break the bond?”

Snape nods, his face twisting in disgust. “In a manner of speaking. I’m of the view the only way to break the spell will be to work with it. Without combining our magic and channelling the bonding properties of the spell, we will be unable to muster enough power as individuals to break the bond.”

“How do we do that, then?” Harry fiddles with the edge of the book, turning the page down and pulling his hand back when he receives a scowl. “Sorry. Do we have to cast spells together or something?”

“It’s a little more than that.” Snape looks a bit green. “Proximity in human terms is not simply about sharing the same space with one another for a period, whilst casting a few charms. I’m afraid the bond, if it is to settle, will require us to find the kind of intimacy you can see in those pictures.”

An icy dread grips at Harry’s heart. “And if we don’t?”

Snape frowns and he exchanges a look with McGonagall, who gives him a small nod as if encouraging him to continue. “The consequences are unclear to us, but they do not appear to be good. I believe our ability to do magic may be irreparably harmed if we don’t satisfy the bond. One solitary brick does not make a wall and I demonstrated the problem in trying to build a magical wall without due care to the complexity of the magic involved. Without stable magic we will be unable to break the bond, and I will be unable to do something as delicate as brewing potions. I cannot afford to lose my livelihood.”

“Well I can’t imagine it’s going to do any favours for my Auror competency tests either.”

Snape’s lips twist. “Yet you’re rich, Potter. You have the privilege of choice. I do not.”

“I don’t have a choice, not really.” Harry shakes his head at Snape. “I’m not Malfoy and I’m not going to spend the rest of my life scared to do magic. Not when it feels like I’ve only just found it.”

“Then it’s settled.” Snape rubs his head as if it pains him and he turns back to the globe, watching it move. “We must take every step necessary to settle the bond.”

A thought occurs to Harry as he looks at the picture of the two wizards entwined in their permanent embrace again. A hot flush creeps from his neck to his cheeks. “You said we would have to be intimate. _How_ intimate?”

“Sex, Potter. It’s called sex.” Snape mutters something rude under his breath. “If you’re incapable of saying the word it doesn’t bode well for our ability to actually have any.”

“ _Severus_...” McGonagall’s voice is tight and furious. “This is not the way to go about it.” 

“What do you suggest I do?” Snape stands, his voice rising. “I must speak plainly to the boy. He’s so keen to insist he’s not a _child_ , don’t you think he should know what he has to do in order to adequately prepare himself?”

“This is not the way-”

“You don’t want to have sex with me.” Harry trips over the word, interrupting McGonagall. 

Snape’s expression smooths and his eyes sweep over Harry. “I can assure you the idea is as abhorrent to me as it is to you-”

“Severus Snape, I must insist-!”

Snape holds up a hand, shaking his head at McGonagall and something indecipherable passes between them. “Enough. Allow me to talk to Potter alone. I must insist on that.”

McGonagall looks uncertain, her gaze flicking to Harry.

“It’s okay, Professor.” Harry shrugs, trying to ignore the panic welling within him. He doesn’t particularly want everyone standing around talking about his sex life. “We won’t kill each other.”

“Very well.” McGonagall takes a breath. “I’ll give you a moment but I will return in due course. Do _not_ allow this to get out of hand, Severus.” McGonagall leaves the room, the door closing behind her with a soft snick. The silence in the room is almost unbearable and Harry has to break it as the air crackles with tension.

Harry can feel the heat in his cheeks climb to his ears and his whole face burns as he forces himself to meet Snape’s gaze. “How are we going to do this if neither of us likes wizards?”

Snape’s eyebrows rise. His voice when he finally speaks is low and smooth. “Do not presume to know my preferences, Potter. How very like you to jump to such an ordinary conclusion.”

Something about the way Snape speaks sends a shudder through Harry – one which isn’t entirely unpleasant. He grips the book tightly in his lap. “You prefer wizards?”

Snape nods, once. “Exclusively. I have ample experience to ensure it would not be entirely unsatisfactory.”

“Oh well, thanks ever so.” Harry glares at Snape and the thought of getting things back on track with Ginny go out of the window. He’s supposes he should feel more bothered and guilt worms through his chest. He swallows before looking up at Snape. “What makes you think I like wizards?”

Snape winces, looking away from Harry. “It’s not my job to inform you of your preferences.” He finally meets Harry’s eyes again, the timbre of his voice low and smooth. “Yet it hasn’t taken a great deal of pushing to make you question them.”

Harry pulls a face. He looks at the picture of the two wizards in the book and he can’t help but notice the warmth which gathers in his belly. He closes the book quickly and puts it to one side and tries to ignore the tightness in his chest. It’s the first time he’s even let himself think about the shape and physique of the shadowy figures that occupy his rare fantasies. It’s not as though he’s had chance to explore anything more than a few chaste kisses. He feels the heat returning to his cheeks and stares at a scuff of dirt on his jeans. “I haven’t had much chance to think about that sort of stuff.”

Snape sits again, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Of course not. As I have already indicated, I have sufficient experience to ensure you will feel no pain.”

“ _Pain_?” Harry gawks at Snape. “I should bloody well hope not, I don’t want to be in _pain_.”

Snape makes a sound which does little to reassure Harry. “It’s simply a matter of satisfying the bond so that we might get to a point where we are intimate enough to break it. I will make it as quick and efficient as possible, without causing you any discomfort.”

Harry doesn’t want to stand because his legs feel wobbly as he listens to Snape talk so dispassionately. He wants to cry. He won’t in front of Snape, he won’t humiliate himself like that, but the ache in his heart intensifies. He doesn’t want his first time to be quick and efficient. He doesn’t want candles and flowers particularly but not for one second had he imagined being with someone who found him so revolting they wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. 

“Fine. Okay.” Harry shrugs, surprised to find his voice sounded so small in the quiet room. “We’ll have _sex_.” Despite himself, Harry still can’t shake the thought of _quick and efficient_ from his head and his stomach rolls. He wants to fight Snape but a wave of exhaustion overcomes him. Why does this always happen to him? All he wanted after the war was a bit of peace and quiet and a chance to be normal. He didn’t want to end up accidentally bonded to someone who can’t stand to be in his presence.

Harry heaves a breath and looks around the room. His barely touched bag is open with his few bits of clothing spilling over the side. The room’s quite nice, really. It feels almost homely with the candles flickering and the shelves covered with books. The sheets are crisp, clean white and Harry can’t quite picture Snape studying in this room. He wonders what he looks like without his robes buttoned up to the neck, relaxed in his own space. He doesn’t know anything about Snape. He doesn’t even know what he looks like out of long, black robes. Snape _hates_ Harry and Harry can remember his own outburst of pain and anguish, hammering his fists against Snape’s chest. He can’t. Harry just _can’t_. He’s struggling to picture sleeping with a man at all, but he definitely can’t imagine doing that with Snape. He pictures Snape sneering when he looks at Harry and the way he dismisses him whenever he can. He imagines Snape fucking him with a gleam of hatred in his eyes. Harry gulps in air as his stomach turns again and bile rises in his throat. 

“Potter?”

Harry doesn’t respond. Instead he gets to his feet and dashes to the small ensuite bathroom. He yanks open the door and proceeds to throw up the contents of his stomach. There’s not much in there and his stomach clenches as he retches into the bowl, clinging onto the ceramic with white-knuckled hands. He can’t seem to stop shaking and his body convulses as every shadow in the room feels as though it’s closing in on him.

He barely registers the firm hand on his shoulder or the cold flannel wiping his face gently, soothing his skin. He leans into the touch and Snape’s now familiar voice breaks through the quiet but Harry can’t quite make out the words. The last thing he remembers is the murmur of a feather-light charm and the sensation of being carried before a warm duvet is placed over his cold body.

*

When Harry comes to, he finds himself nose to nose with Snape, sitting in a chair next to the bed and peering at Harry. He pedals backwards with a yelp as Snape glares at him.

“You little twit.” Snape’s eyes bore into Harry’s and he sounds cross. “Do you have to be such an infernal martyr?”

“I’m not being anything.” Harry glares at Snape. “I can’t help it if I’m sick. It must be the magic or the bond or something.”

Snape arches an eyebrow. “Really.”

“Yes, really.” Harry’s cheeks heat. Damn his inability to control his body around Snape.

“Or perhaps you’re nauseated because you are terrified of the notion of any kind of intimacy with me and instead of simply _telling_ me about your concerns, you have decided you have to charge in anyway like a bull in a china shop.”

Harry pulled a face. “Yeah. Well, maybe.”

Snape pinches the bridge of his nose and appears to be counting to ten under his breath. Eventually he looks up. “The bond may require a certain level of intimacy, but I do not intend to force myself upon you against your will. There is nothing _intimate_ about sex when one party is reluctant to reciprocate. That is a violation. Abuse, Potter. Something that, whatever you may think of me, I do not condone.”

Harry shakes his head. “I said I’d do it, if we need to. It wouldn’t be forced.”

Snape snorts softly. “It would hardly be pleasurable, either. I rather foolishly assumed the fact you’re an eighteen-year-old boy exploring his sexuality-”

“Hang about-”

Snape rolls his eyes. “ _Possibly_ exploring his sexuality, sex might hold some curiosity as opposed to horror.”

Harry stares at Snape, wondering if he’s really that stupid. “Yeah, perhaps. With somebody who doesn’t want to make it _quick and efficient_.” He looks away, trying to find the words. “If it’s not going to be with someone who loves me or anything it would at least be nice if it was with someone who didn’t hate me. Who didn’t find me repulsive.”

“And how do you find me?” Snape’s voice is oddly smooth and quiet. “It may surprise you to learn I’ve had perfectly willing partners. I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled about the notion of deflowering an arrogant little wizard who insists he’s heterosexual and is violently ill because he’s so disgusted by the prospect of physical intimacy with me.”

Harry looks up and takes in the details of Snape’s face. He used to think of Snape as ugly, but now that doesn’t seem quite right. Snape will never be handsome but he has a compelling intensity to him which makes Harry’s stomach squirm pleasantly. He thinks of the unexpected pulse of arousal which crashed over him shortly after the bonding spell was cast and the way he gravitated towards Snape’s magic – the light touch of Snape’s wizardry like a caress against his skin. He clears his throat, wishing he could pore over the book again.

“Is the bond supposed to make me feel anything…unusual?”

Snape’s brow furrows. “Define unusual.”

Harry clears his throat and waves his hand up and down in Snape’s general direction. “You know, towards you.”

“Oh.” Snape runs his tongue over his lips and he clears his own throat before answering. “No. There is no compulsion, if that’s what you’re asking. I believe if we _do_ attempt to settle the bond the fact the bond exists would serve to heighten any connection – however small – we manage to forge.” He pauses, thoughtfully. “But no, there’s nothing which suggests you or I would be compelled to feel any differently towards one another – certainly not at this juncture.”

“Okay.” Harry bites his bottom lip as he studies Snape. Considering he’s woken up with Snape at his bedside three times now, it really should feel more uncomfortable. The thought of Snape’s hands on him should feel more uncomfortable. The notion shouldn’t make a flicker of unexpected want flare within him. He casts his gaze over to the globe and plucks up all of his courage. “I like the globe.”

“You’ve said.”

“I mean, I like your magic. The feel of it.”

“Ah.” Snape doesn’t sound surprised. “I wondered.”

“You did?”

“Yes. When we began to work on the wall.” Snape studies Harry and he seems to be toying with himself. Harry has the distinct sense he’s being given just enough to keep his questions at bay while Snape knows far more than he’s letting on. That thought makes Harry angry and he sits up, not particularly caring that the movement brings him closer to Snape as they face one another.

“You’re not telling me everything.”

“No.” Snape studies his nails before speaking again. “It was unusual. Your reaction to the castle was surprising but not entirely without explanation. You’re poor at Occlumency and have frequently demonstrated a tendency to allow your emotions to get the better of you. That you would be particularly attuned to the sentient magic of Hogwarts is unsurprising, particularly as it was, to all intents and purposes, your true childhood home.”

Harry stares at Snape because how the _hell_ does he know that much about Harry’s home life. “Did Professor Dumbledore tell you that?”

Snape nods. “He told me enough.” A cloud crosses his features and Harry decides not to push. He’s also prepared to let the comment about Occlumency slide, because he really is crap at it. As tempting as it is to make a comment about bad teaching, Harry lets that go, too. If Snape’s willing to share his thoughts with Harry, he doesn’t want to spoil the moment.

“Your reaction to me, however.” Snape pauses and it feels almost as if he’s looking into the core of Harry, his gaze dark and searching. “Was less easy to explain.”

“It’s just magic in general. It’s because of Hogwarts. Because I’m back here and I’m not a…” Harry brushes his fingers to his scar and stops himself.

“Not a Horcrux anymore?”

“What?” Harry’s head snaps up. He didn’t know Snape knew about that. He thought only a handful of people did.

“Do you think I’m an idiot, Potter?” Snape rolls his eyes. “I spent many years serving Dumbledore and many more around the Dark Lord. It may surprise you to learn I have the ability to piece information together. When you’re fed edited highlights from those careful not to let you know too much, it’s amazing how quickly you end up with the whole picture.”

Harry nods, because of _course_ Snape knows. The thought of Snape knowing about Horcruxes doesn’t terrify him as it might have done previously. Instead he feels certain that the last thing Snape would want is to embark on a quest for immortality. His already shifting perception of Snape surprises him.

“Then it could be that? Perhaps it just stifled things for a bit.”

“I have no doubt.” Snape nods his agreement, much to Harry’s surprise. “It would certainly explain why you never had a particularly strong response to being around me previously.” He pauses, clearly picking over his words carefully. “However, I haven’t noticed any particular reaction to the Headmistress. Have you had any similar experiences with your friends?”

Harry frowns, wishing he could say yes but he knows with a sinking heart it wouldn’t be true. He shakes his head. “No. What do you think it means?”

Snape taps his finger to his lips. “I’m not certain, but I believe it’s important. I think it has something to do with why the spell bound us together.”

“Oh.” Harry lets that sink in. “Do you get the same thing with me?”

Snape seems to be fighting against himself and in the end he shakes his head. “No.”

“Oh.” Harry feels another wave of sadness and it’s almost too much. He thinks of _quick and efficient_ again and he ducks his head.

“Harry.” Snape’s voice is surprisingly calm and soft and the sound of Harry’s name from his lips feels like a slow caress. “I have spent years making myself immune to the influences of…magic. You and I are very different people.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.” Harry gnaws at his thumbnail and finally looks up at Snape again. “I don’t think you’re ugly or anything.”

Snape snorts. “Charmed, I’m sure.”

“I’m just saying.” Harry shrugs. “It’s not horrible to think about.”

Snape rakes his eyes over Harry in a manner which feels startlingly intimate. When he speaks his voice is rough around the edges with none of its usual smooth cadence. “You must be aware of your own appeal?”

Harry frowned at Snape, because no, not really. “Must I?”

Snape rolls his eyes. “You have a mirror, don’t you? You are young, fit and entirely too handsome for your own good. Not to mention a distinguished celebrity, infernal Gryffindor and brave to the point of stupidity. To consider anyone would be _repulsed_ by you simply demonstrates your foolishness.”

Harry blinks at Snape and then glares at him. “Was that supposed to be a compliment? Because if it was, you’re rubbish at them.”

Snape scowls. “I am trying to reassure you, you impudent child.”

“Great job.” Harry rubs his eyes and his head begins to throb. “I just didn’t think it would be like this. What do I do, just lie back and think of England?”

Snape’s lips twitch in an almost smile. “Perhaps we can begin with something a little less physical, given your reaction to my earlier suggestion. True intimacy cannot be forced and I doubt any kind of sexual activity under duress would settle the bond. In fact, quite to the contrary.”

“You mean handjobs or something?” Harry can probably do that. The rather pleasant tug of arousal caused by being on the receiving end of one of Snape’s dark stares intensifies, and yeah, he thinks. He can _definitely_ do that. 

Snape gives Harry a look which is both a grimace and slightly fond – a look which makes Harry feel warm all over.

“The Headmistress is pacing outside waiting to hear about our progress. I don’t think she wishes to hear _that_ kind of progress. The walls, may I remind you, are thinner than you might expect.”

“Err, right. Of course.” Harry’s cheeks heat. “What were you thinking, then?”

Snape turns his eyes heavenward. “Sleep, Potter. Just sleep. Then perhaps a conversation tomorrow. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“Will that be enough?”

Snape purses his lips before nodding. “I believe it will suffice, for the time being.”

“Brilliant.” A weight lifts from Harry’s shoulders and he suddenly realises how tired he is. He battles a yawn as Snape stands. “You’re going?”

“The Headmistress is waiting and I have a little research I wish to do before retiring. Sleep, Potter. We can continue this in the morning.”

“Nine o’clock sharp, Professor.” Harry gives Snape a mock salute, tipping his fingers against his forehead. “We’ve got to finish that wall, too.”

Snape looks as if he’s going to say something derisory but he swallows it back, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his slim throat. “Indeed.” He makes his way to the door, pausing before turning the handle. “I believe, under the circumstances, you might want to start thinking of me as _Severus_. I don’t think maintaining the pretence of being Professor and student is going to be of any assistance to either of us.”

“Okay.” Harry rolls the name around on his tongue in a whisper. It sounds strange and unfamiliar, like trying to speak a foreign language for the first time. “I’ll try to remember.”

“Do that.” Snape opens the door and leaves in a billow of black robes.

With a sigh, Harry scrubs his eyes with his knuckles. He yawns again before stripping off and slipping on his comfortable flannel pyjamas. He cleans his teeth and splashes water on his face, looking at himself in the mirror.

“Why me?”

The mirror says something rude about his hair but otherwise passes no comment. 

“Fat lot of use you are.” Harry sticks his tongue out at his reflection before another wave of tiredness settles over him like a blanket. He shuffles into bed and tucks the duvet under his chin, falling asleep as the lights from the globe cast a gentle light around the room.

*

The nightmares assault him with force that night. Harry wakes up gasping for air, as if he’s drowning and there’s no fresh air to breathe anymore. Everything reeks of blood and the castle walls seem to tremble with Harry at the memory of the war. He catches a greedy gulp of air and stands on shaking feet, moving to the desk and sinking heavily into the seat. He touches the globe and feels the magic warming his fingertips and soothing his aching limbs. His mouth is dry and his chest tight. He just wants to sleep for one night. Uninterrupted by his subconscious and the way it twists and turns preparing for its silent attack during his most vulnerable moments.

Harry stands, rummaging through his suitcase. He pulls out a comfortable hooded jumper and pulls it over his head. He leaves the room quietly and wanders through the corridors. He finds the hole in the wall and sits next to it, running his fingers over the bricks he and Snape – Severus – put in place only a few hours before. He takes out his wand and picks up a lone brick, concentrating on pouring the intricate magic into it. It helps, somehow. There’s no evidence of his magic being impacted by the bond just yet and he can’t help but wonder if this bond’s really as bad as Severus seems to think. Perhaps they can just continue as they are, without the other stuff.

Harry picks up a second brick and it shivers beneath his hand. He casts slowly and quietly, taking in every flicker and tremble of magic. He lets it pulse through his veins and the powerful rush of pleasure he feels when he’s casting spells rushes through him. He loves this. Loves being back here, even with the castle walls fractured and broken. He loves the little room of his own and the way the staircases dance across one another, the house-elves arriving in his room with a _pop_ and armfuls of delicious food. Hogwarts’ magic tastes like treacle tart when it’s at its strongest and Harry presses a hand against an unharmed part of the wall, luxuriating in its solid power. Even Snape, as irascible and difficult as he is, feels familiar. For the first time in a long time, Harry feels content as if he’s exactly where he should be. The magic that surrounds him is so warm and the fingers of magic caressing his body return. Harry sighs, leaning into them and closing his eyes. He lets the brick drop into place as strong hands catch him by the shoulders and he leans into them with parted lips and a whisper of _please_.

“Harry.” Snape’s voice breaks the spell, his voice rough and slightly breathless.

“Professor?” Harry twists and there Severus is, standing behind him. “How long have you been here?”

“A while.” Severus has the most peculiar expression on his face. He looks at Harry in a way Harry’s quite sure he’s never been looked at before. Without his layers of robes, he looks more relaxed than usual, in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and the collar unbuttoned. He has on form-fitting black trousers and he looks as good as Harry’s ever seen him. He looks down at his flannel pyjamas with a grimace. Snape looks grown up while Harry still looks like an awkward teenager with his flannel tartan pyjama bottoms and hooded top with a dragon on the front.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“I heard.”

“You were working?” Harry wonders if Severus ever sleeps. He moves off the dusty floor, standing up so he’s more on a level with Severus. He’s a bit sick of being in bed or sitting down like a damsel in distress while Severus looms over him. “Do you sleep at all?”

“A little.” Severus’ lips twitch into a half smile. His gaze is dark and intense as he watches Harry. “Not excessively.”

Harry looks at Snape curiously, wondering about him sitting up until the early hours with a candle burning on his desk. He thinks of the scribbled notes he tried to decipher when he arrived at Hogwarts, about different potions and researching cures for all manner of things.

“You work too hard.”

“Thank you for your concern.” Severus snorts softly. “I can assure you, I am well used to keeping unusual hours.”

“Did you come looking for me?”

Severus looks a way, a flicker of something crossing his features. “Yes.”

“Why?”

Severus turns back to Harry, his expression carefully neutral. “Because I know the kind of reckless decisions that can be taken in moments of trauma.”

“Oh.” Harry stares at Severus, his chest uncomfortably tight again. “No, nothing like that.” He looks down. “I felt them, when the spell went wrong. There were cold hands on me, pulling me somewhere. I think I heard Sirius shouting, and my dad.”

“Is that so?” Severus’ voice is contemplative. When Harry sneaks a glance at him, he’s frowning. “That is…most unprecedented.”

Harry steps a bit closer, his heart hammering in his chest. “Do you know what I did?”

Severus shakes his head and his gaze flicks to Harry’s lips. “No.”

“I held onto you.”

“Ah.” Severus’ eyes darken just a fraction. “I am not a man to keep you tethered to the real world. I have…ghosts of my own. On occasion, it is tempting to join them.”

A little emboldened, Harry steps closer. “You could hold onto me for a bit when you feel like that, maybe?”

Snape’s lips tilt into a smile and his thumb brushes Harry’s cheek. “Could I, indeed?”

“Maybe.” Harry’s voice shakes around the edges. He’s almost overwhelmed by Severus’ proximity and he wonders if this is it. If this is the moment. The thumb on his cheek moves to Harry’s lips and he can’t help but part them a little, his breath coming quicker than usual. The look in Severus’ eyes is so intoxicating. It’s almost too much for Harry. Then Severus steps away and the moment passes.

“We have an early start tomorrow. It would be wise for both of us to get a little sleep.” Severus gives Harry a look, as if he expects Harry to stay up building the wall. “Nine o’clock, as before. You can meet me in my quarters.”

“Yeah.” Harry’s pounding heart steadies a little and he pushes his clammy hands into the pocket at the front of his jumper. “Nine o’clock, then. I’ll eat before.”

Severus shakes his head. “I can arrange for breakfast to be served.”

“Oh. Thanks.” Harry smiles and Severus gives him one last look before turning, making his way back to his rooms.

Harry fits one more brick into the wall, missing the combination of Snape’s magic with his own. When he’s satisfied the last brick is settled in place, he returns to his rooms. He gets into bed and flicks his wand to call over the heavy tome with the details of the bond inside. He reads slowly, taking in every word and nuance. When he’s finally feeling sleepy enough he flicks through the other pages, focusing on pictures of wizards together. He _knows_. The pictures of witches and witches and witches with other wizards are pleasant enough, but it’s the shots of the wizards together that make his breath quicken and his stomach clench with want. After one final look at the two wizards with the matching tattoos, he closes the book, flicks off the candles and falls into a deep, undisturbed sleep.

*

Harry knocks on Severus’ door the next morning after showering and changing into a jumper and jeans, feeling more nervous than he probably should. The door opens and Harry steps inside, looking around curiously. The rooms are nothing like he expected. There’s the delicious smell of breakfast, for a start. Something sweet, like pancakes, freshly toasted bread and coffee. The room is cavernous and vast with a ceiling which seems to stretch all the way up. Rows and rows of books adorn the shelves and one corner appears to be dedicated entirely to potions ingredients – presumably the ones Severus doesn’t want to keep in his separate stores. Despite the height of the room it still feels comfortable and warm, with a small fire crackling to one side and large, lumpy looking sofas nestled around the sitting area. A well-worn armchair is pulled up next to the fire and there’s a book open on the arm of it and a pair of reading glasses on a small mahogany table next to the armchair.

When Harry looks behind him he notices outer robes hanging on the door and thick, long Muggle wool jackets which are probably as close to robes as a Muggle can get. There’s a Gryffindor scarf slung over one of the hooks and Harry approaches it with some astonishment, fingering the edge of the material.

“Do feel free to poke through my things.” 

“Sorry.” Harry spins around to find Severus watching him. “Gryffindor? Really?”

Severus shrugs. “It’s a little joke of mine.”

Harry frowns because it doesn’t seem funny at all and he definitely thinks there’s something Severus isn’t telling him. “I don’t get it. Your sense of humour’s weird.”

“Thank you.” Severus gives Harry a look. “As I’m not a clown who exists solely for your entertainment, I can’t bring myself to be too offended by that.”

“Who did it belong to?” Harry looks back at the scarf again, sincerely hoping the _joke_ doesn’t have anything to do with his dad or Sirius.

“It’s mine.” Severus doesn’t elaborate further, instead gesturing to a table set out with breakfast. “Breakfast. The elves paid a little more attention to detail when they heard I was going to have a guest.”

Harry winces, seeing the delicious spread of fresh fruit, pancakes and piping hot cafetieres of coffee. “Sorry, they go a bit overboard.”

“I can only imagine.” Severus takes a seat and he pours coffees for them both. Harry doesn’t particularly like coffee but he doesn’t want to say so when Severus has gone to the effort of having him round for breakfast. He takes a sip and winces.

“Mmm.”

Severus dabs the corner of his mouth with a napkin, his eyes boring into Harry. “You are a truly terrible liar, Potter.”

Harry’s cheeks heat and he shrugs. “I’m really more of a tea person.”

“Then you should have said as much.” Severus reaches for a tea pot Harry hadn’t noticed before and he cleans Harry’s mug with a flick of his wand before pouring the tea. “This isn’t going to work terribly well if you insist on pretending to like things you don’t enjoy, simply because you don’t wish to hurt my feelings.”

“I suppose not.” Harry’s breath catches as he thinks of the things he might do with Severus – the things he’s starting to want to do with Severus. He allows himself a moment to take in the lines of Severus’ figure, more obvious in his white shirt unbuttoned at the neck and rolled up at the sleeves. He looks as he did last night and Harry wonders if he’s just got a whole wardrobe of black trousers, white shirts and robes. He rubs the back of his neck, watching Severus eat. “You don’t have anyone, do you?”

“Pardon?” Severus swallows his mouthful of boiled egg and toast, looking up at Harry with an arched eyebrow.

“You said you had lots of people who wanted to be with you. You don’t have anyone special, do you?”

Severus sits back, watching Harry and taking a sip of his coffee. “I did not say I have _lots_ of people. I haven’t had a significant relationship for many years. I have, as many people do, certain casual acquaintances I see on occasion.”

A wave of jealousy passes through Harry and he tries to push it down by taking a bite of his pancakes while he works through that piece of unexpected information. “Will you still see them while we figure this bond thing out?”

“I doubt it.” Severus returns to his toast. “I hardly think that would help us to settle the bond sufficiently and it could prove harmful. I’m not that sex-starved that I have to go into Knockturn Alley every evening.”

Harry nearly chokes on his toast. He chews the next bite a bit more carefully in case Severus starts talking about casual sex again. “I don’t think you should, either. I’ve got a feeling it wouldn’t help.”

“Is that so?” Severus sounds amused. “Well, in that case, you won’t mind telling Miss Weasley that she may want to explore other options for the foreseeable future?”

Harry pulls a face. “She’s already doing that, I think. She sent me a letter.”

“Did she indeed.” Severus hums thoughtfully. “I’m quite sure her loss will be somebody else’s gain.”

Harry lets out a huff of laughter. “Just your gain at the moment, Prof- Severus.”

“Indeed.” Severus doesn’t deny Harry’s claim, much to his surprise.

Harry knocks the top off one of the eggs and dips his toast into the runny yolk. He knows it might seem childish but it’s his favourite way of eating eggs and toast. He notices the way Severus looks at him and he resists the urge to defend his eating habits. They are what they are and Severus will just have to get used to them.

“I wanted to talk you about last night,” Harry says when he’s demolished most of the egg.

“I’m listening,” Severus replies.

“My magic was fine when I worked on the wall. I didn’t feel as if it was unbalanced at all; if anything it felt even easier, particularly when you were there.” Harry keeps a careful eye on Severus’ reactions. “Perhaps we don’t need to do anything more than get along. Like this, perhaps?” Harry’s not even sure it’s what he wants anymore but, as the thought spun through his mind during the night, something compels him to ask.

Severus nods. “Perhaps. Although I remain of the view that a certain degree of proximity will be required if the bond is to fully settle.”

“What if we end up stuck together like the bricks?” Harry grins at Severus. “You’d go mental.”

“We will not end up _stuck together_ , you little twit.” Severus rolls his eyes but he sounds amused by the image. Something about that makes Harry feel inordinately proud. “I’ve been giving a little thought to your nightmares.”

“Yeah?” Harry munches on a strawberry, letting out a hum of contentment. 

“Yes.” Severus gives Harry that peculiar look again. There’s a moment’s silence as Severus watches Harry eat. Harry wonders what’s so fascinating about him eating a strawberry of all things and why it’s making Severus look vaguely panicky. He reaches for a banana and Severus mutters something under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You are an infernal tease.”

“A _what_?” Harry swallows his mouthful of banana and frowns at Severus.

“Just…” Severus takes a slightly shaky breath and Harry wonders what has him so befuddled. He looks down at the banana and then thinks of those dark, intense stares. He begins to laugh, feeling lighter than he has in ages. Something warm swoops in his chest.

“ _Really?_ ” The heat in his cheeks deepens and Harry takes another slow bite of his banana, swallowing around his smile as he maintains eye contact with Severus.

“You’re a wretched child.” Severus scowls at Harry, making Harry laugh again.

“I’m just eating breakfast, Severus.”

Severus huffs before composing himself. He traces his lips with one long finger as he watches Harry and it sets Harry’s heart pounding restlessly. Perhaps it’s not so strange after all. To watch someone and think about…stuff. 

“I thought perhaps we might change our schedule somewhat,” Severus says. “You and I are both inclined to work into the night, it seems. Perhaps my insistence on an early start was not the right approach. You may benefit from a few more hours in bed if your sleep is so constantly disturbed.”

Harry glances at Severus with surprise. “You’d be happy with that?”

“I believe so.” Severus nods. “We can begin work later in the day and you can have the morning to do as you please.”

Harry thinks of having a leisurely lie in or taking advantage of the morning autumn sunshine to go flying. He imagines going for a run around Hogwarts grounds before having to go back to the dungeons to work on the castle restoration and he smiles. “I’d like that.”

“Then it’s settled.” Severus pushes his plate away and pours another cup of coffee. “I suggest we plan to begin work at one o’clock.”

“Well I’m up now.” Harry pushes his last piece of pancake around his plate, gathering up all the syrup he can.

“Would you like a few hours to yourself?” 

Harry looks at Severus and rubs the scruff on his chin a little self-consciously. He doesn’t much want to leave the comfortable quarters and the smorgasbord of delights set out on the table. He doesn’t want to leave _Severus_. The realisation pulses through him and there’s a long silence as the clock ticks and Harry can’t seem to stop staring at Severus.

“No, I don’t think so.” Harry looks at the lumpy sofas and then back at Severus. “We could sit by the fire for a bit and finish our drinks.”

Severus raises his eyebrows and then he nods. “We could.”

Harry stands and moves to the sofa, taking his tea with him. He kicks off his trainers and curls his feet beneath him, watching as Severus moves to settle into the armchair and that won’t do at all.

“Or you could sit here.”

A flicker of surprise ghosts over Severus’ features but he sits on the sofa as suggested, giving Harry a close look. “What exactly is going on in that mind of yours?”

“I don’t know.” Harry puts down his tea and he moves a bit closer. “I just…”

“Hmm.” Severus puts down his own drink, reaching out a hand to Harry. He takes Harry’s hand and urges him closer until Harry’s close enough to Severus that he can feel the warmth of his body and smell the light spiciness of his cologne. Severus reaches a hand up, tracing a finger over Harry’s jaw as if he’s fascinated by the lines of Harry’s face. “Have you…given some thought to those preferences of yours?”

“I read the rest of the book. Skimmed it, anyway.” It’s difficult to talk when Severus looks so intense and his fingers connect with Harry’s skin. “I don’t think I’m all that interested in witches after all.”

“I see.” Severus cups Harry’s face with his hand and urges him down a little and then their lips connect. It’s slow, at first. Slow and surprisingly soft. It’s nothing like kissing Ginny. Harry’s mind doesn’t wander to what he might do later in the day and he has no desire to pull back after a couple of soft kisses on the lips. Instead he wants _more_. He surges forwards, nearly pushing Severus back, and he kisses him eagerly. He knows it’s messy and uncoordinated and he’s fairly certain his elbow’s jabbing somewhere into Severus’ ribs, but he doesn’t _care_. It feels so good it makes his head spin and he wonders how he ever survived without kissing like this, every day of his life.

“ _Severus_.”

Severus breaks the kiss when Harry murmurs against his lips, pushing him back a little. He looks somewhat startled, but not exactly displeased. The corner of his mouth curves into a half smile and when he speaks, his voice is low and rough. “This is hardly the most comfortable position.”

“Well let’s move, then.” Harry dives in for another quick kiss but Severus seems to have other ideas, rearranging them so Harry ends up on his back, stretched out along the sofa. Severus settles over him and _oh_ that’s it. The kisses change with Severus in charge. They aren’t quite as messy and breathless – Severus seems to know what he’s doing. He licks into Harry’s mouth and Harry parts his lips eagerly for Severus, wanting to taste every part of him. He tips his head back when Severus kisses along his jawline and down over his neck, bucking up when Severus pauses to suck on a particularly sensitive spot. His whole body is hot with desire and it’s all Harry can do to keep himself from grinding desperately against Severus.

When Harry bucks up again and murmurs a curse under his breath, Severus slides his fingers under Harry’s jumper and presses against the hot skin beneath the cotton. He brings his lips to Harry’s ear, his breath tickling the shell of it. “You can move, Harry. I like feeling you enjoy yourself.”

“Oh _god_.” Harry sucks in a breath, both embarrassed and needy. He begins to rock up against Severus, seeking some friction. It’s not long before Severus slides up Harry’s jumper, urging him to take it off with a low growl of _off, off_. Harry obliges, slipping it over his head and dropping it on the floor. When Severus fumbles with the button on his jeans, Harry tips his head back with an _oof_ of pleasure. He lets Severus slide his jeans down just a little before pushing his hands beneath Harry. He gets it now, what Severus wants. He can feel it in the way Severus squeezes him through the cotton of his boxers and insinuates his thigh between Harry’s legs so they’re arranged in just the right way for Harry to control his own pleasure – to control the delicious friction.

He wishes he was better at this. He wishes he knew how to do Severus back, already feeling guilty for being so bloody-minded about his own pleasure. The sparks of arousal catch into flames of desire which burn through his body. Even as he fumbles to try to reach for Severus, Severus grips his wrist and shakes his head, his breath coming in hot pants. “Not yet. Focus on you.”

With a low moan, Harry nods. If Severus wants him to do that, he’s not going to disagree. He pushes up and rubs against Severus. It’s so good and the hot slide of Severus’ tongue in his mouth is beyond arousing. It doesn’t take long for his climax to build and it hits him in a powerful rush until he’s sticky, spent and a little embarrassed.

“Can you show me what to do?” Harry buries his nose in Severus’ neck, breathing him in. He shifts his hand lower, toying with the buckle on Severus’ trousers.

“You already know, I imagine.” Severus chuckles but there’s no malice in it. He murmurs a spell which leaves Harry clean and dry once again, before pulling off Harry’s jeans completely. He reaches down between them both and lifts himself off Harry a little, unbuttoning his trousers and lowering the zip. He looks at Harry and his voice is a little rough. Harry takes a shaky breath, wanting to _see_ not just touch.

“Not that.” Harry’s cheeks heat as he watches Severus. “I don’t know how to do other stuff. With my mouth, I mean.”

The look on Severus’ face is priceless. He soon composes himself though, and sits back a little. Harry lets him move until he’s stretched back on the sofa, his head pillowed in the crook of his arm. In the soft light of morning, Severus looks _good_. He doesn’t look particularly different, but his face is more open and relaxed than Harry’s ever seen it. He has a teasing glint in his dark eyes but this time it’s not cruel and when his lips curve into a barely-there smile it’s a _smile_ not a sneer and it’s all directed at Harry. Harry lets out a breath, just drinking in the sight of Severus while he can. 

“There’s no rush.” Severus brushes his fingers against Harry’s thigh. “This is not the sort of thing one should have to be brave about.” His voice slides through Harry and there are secrets behind his words, a sadness which laces through the syllables. Harry stills Severus’ fingers and he shakes his head.

“I’m not being brave. I want to do it.”

Severus narrows his eyes and then he sighs, as if he’s resigned himself to the fact that there’s little point in arguing with Harry. “In that case I have no desire to stop you.”

Harry helps Severus slide down his trousers and pants and he bites his bottom lip because Severus is _big_. He takes a breath and moves down before Severus catches him, tipping his chin so they’re looking at one another. His breathing is already a little shallow and he brushes his thumb against Harry’s bottom lip. Harry bites back a groan and then takes Severus’ thumb into his mouth, sucking it slowly before Severus pulls back and feeds him two fingers instead. Gripping Severus’ hand, Harry slides his mouth over the fingers. Severus murmurs something about teeth and _oh_. Quite sure he’s flushing to the tips of his ears by now, Harry covers his teeth and slides over Severus’ fingers again. He does so until they’re slick with saliva and Severus’ breathing has turned from soft and shallow to ragged. Harry slides off his fingers and sits back a little, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Like that, then?”

Severus nods, his voice jagged around the edges. “Just like that.”

Perhaps Severus isn’t such a bad teacher after all, Harry thinks with a grin. He ducks his head and he moves his lips over Severus’ cock, just sucking at the tip. When he hears Severus let out a low groan, his confidence increases. Severus twists his hand in Harry’s hair and it sends a shiver down his spine. He works over Severus, pressing as low as he can go and gripping the base of Severus’ cock to help guide his motions. There’s a low hum of something which surrounds them, like the warm light from the globe in Harry’s room and the caress of magic down his spine when Severus watched him work on the restoration. It gathers in intensity and for one moment Harry’s quite sure he can hear the castle whisper and murmur around them. It doesn’t sound violent and painful as it did when Severus tried to force the wrong brick into place. It sounds like a song – hazy and almost unreal – like being underwater and hearing the soft notes of a tune from somewhere in the distance.

The hands that slide over Harry’s skin aren’t cold anymore and nobody tries to pull him to a place he doesn’t want to be. Instead, as he takes Severus deeper into his mouth and works as hard as he can to slide up and down, it’s like warm treacle running through his veins as the fire crackles lazily beside them both and the air in the room combines the sound of their breathing and Harry’s ministrations with the gentle hum of magic and song. Harry takes his time, sucking Severus and getting his cock slick before returning his attentions to the slit at the top of Severus’ cock, running his tongue along it. He delights in the rough moan of appreciation from Severus and presses down again, the ache in his jaw unfamiliar but pleasant as he stretches his mouth around Severus. When he dares to look up he can’t stop the way his heart seems to pound out of his chest at the usually so buttoned-up Severus looking in a state of disarray. Their eyes meet and, with a strangled sound, Severus reaches to brush Harry’s hair from his forehead. Then Harry moves again, again, again pulling the best sounds from Severus. His own cock takes interest in proceedings again and he rubs against the sofa with a moan around Severus’ cock. When Severus tugs at his hair, Harry shakes his head because _it’s okay, it’s okay_.

“Close…Harry…”

Harry hums as best he can and carries on until Severus pulses into his mouth and Harry swallows down as much as he can manage. He slides off Severus when he’s sure his orgasm has finished and he watches as Severus closes his eyes and lets out a slow, shaky exhale. When Severus opens his eyes again, Harry grins at him feeling rather pleased with himself.

“I did okay, didn’t I?”

“Wretched, wretched child.” Severus sounds so fond and Harry pushes up along his body, kissing him slowly. Severus returns the kiss with a low groan and then Harry feels slim fingers against his hard cock. Severus whispers against his lips. “Your turn, I believe.”

“Really?” Harry isn’t sure why he’s surprised but he feels like he’s already had one go. Still, he’s not exactly complaining. He’s definitely not complaining when Severus zips himself up and arranges Harry so he’s sitting back against the sofa with his legs spread apart. Severus nudges him up to help him slip off his boxers and then kneels between Harry’s legs and _Christ_ that’s hot. The sight of Severus with his hair ruffled and his shirt collar gaping to reveal a very lickable expanse of collarbone makes Harry suck in a sharp breath. “Did you feel the magic earlier?”

Severus gives Harry a dark stare before nodding. “Yes.” He slides his hands over Harry’s naked thighs and then he pulls him close, taking him down in one smooth motion. It makes Harry’s head spin and he’s almost embarrassed about his own messy efforts because Severus knows _exactly_ what he’s doing. He envelops Harry’s prick in tight, wet heat and slides his tongue over a particularly sensitive part of Harry’s cock. It’s almost too much. Such a strange, intimate thing to do and so incredibly _good_. Harry can’t stop staring at Severus and the rush of memories he had when the spell went wrong surface in the most peculiar way. This time it isn’t Snape’s sneer that pushes to the forefront of Harry’s mind. It’s the feeling of casting _Expelliarmus_. The sensation of having his mind plundered by Severus and the strange, cryptic observations which make so much sense now. He can see Severus yelling at him, hear the scream of rage and frustration and the tremulous insistence of _DON’T CALL ME A COWARD!_. It makes Harry’s chest tighten and he touches a tentative hand to Severus’ hair. A strange, fierce need roars in Harry’s chest. A lion-like desire to protect and a persistent, gnawing want take over him as he loses himself to the delicious sensations of Severus’ mouth doing such intimate, _brilliant_ things. 

Harry strokes a hand through Severus’ hair and he doesn’t want to hold him down. He wants to touch him, to feel every inch of his body. It’s like nothing he’s ever felt before – this heady desire to strip Severus from head to toe and to taste every inch of him. He wants to take his time with Severus and give him every pleasure. Harry’s not certain, but he feels as if Severus might like that. As if perhaps Severus doesn’t have that kind of attention lavished on him often. Harry runs his fingers over the scars on Severus’ neck and his heart beats so furiously it’s as if every single _thump_ and _skip_ establish a rhythm that’s all for Severus. If he wasn’t so turned on and so close to the edge, Harry might laugh at the strange turn of events. He’s giddy with it and he needs to know if this is the bond or if it’s just them. Perhaps it’s a bit of both. The walls of the castle humming for them and the magic pulsing through Harry’s veins. Perhaps it’s the years of anger, hatred and misunderstandings which sit between them and the final moment of being forced to contemplate a whole new perspective. When Severus does something particularly clever with his mouth, Harry knows he’s on the edge. He affords Severus the same opportunity to pull back, tugging lightly on his hair. Severus tightens his grip on Harry’s thighs and Harry comes deep in Severus’ throat. 

It takes a moment for Harry to right himself and he watches Severus, who’s still kneeling between his legs. “Severus?”

“Potter.”

“How come you’ve still got all your clothes on?”

A flicker of surprise crosses Severus’ features and then he laughs. Honest to goodness _laughs_ and it makes Harry nearly squirm with delight. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard Severus laugh and the rich sound makes him warm to the tips of his toes. 

“You too, are still partially clothed.” Severus smirks at Harry before taking his foot into his lap and peeling off his sock, repeating the action with the other foot. He discards the sock and isn’t at all subtle about giving Harry a slow up and down. “ _Much_ better.”

Harry wiggles his toes and he grins at Severus, toying with his collar. “Will you take this off at some point?”

“I might enjoy my coffee first. I’m not as young as you.” Severus murmurs a spell and a blanket comes flying through a door Harry can only assume leads to Severus’ bedroom. Severus hands the blanket to Harry. “If you wish to protect your modesty feel free, although please don’t feel you need to do so on my account.”

“Thanks ever so.” Harry rolls his eyes and wraps the blanket around himself. He doesn’t really mind being naked in front of Severus but there’s something very undignified about drinking tea with your cock out. Besides, he could probably have another pancake or two. Sex makes him hungry, apparently. He makes his way to the table and piles a plate high before settling into Severus’ armchair, watching him as he sips his coffee and contemplates Harry. 

“I should let you know I’m not particularly strong at post-coital conversation.” Severus winces. “It is something I rarely engage in. My partners are more…transient.”

“Former partners,” Harry says. That fierce thing in his chest flares again, hot and forceful.

Severus’ lips twitch. “ _Former_ partners.”

“You’ll want to be checking on our wall in a bit, I bet.” Harry takes a mouthful of his breakfast. He doesn’t particularly want to work today. He wants to spend more time exploring all the things he’s been missing out on. 

“Perhaps.” Severus gives Harry another of those intense looks, which sends pleasure through Harry’s bones. “Although I could be persuaded to play truant in the interests of working on this bond of ours.”

“Brilliant.” Harry grins and takes another mouthful of breakfast. “That’s what we’ll do then.”

“Yes.” Severus hides his smile behind his coffee cup but not before Harry catches a glimpse of it. “That’s what we’ll do.”

*

They eat a leisurely breakfast and talk about all sorts of things which take Harry by surprise. Severus wants to see different parts of the world. Those pinpoints on the globe are the places he wants to visit the most. He’s obviously done his research but there’s something wistful about the way he talks about it, as if he doesn’t believe it will ever come to fruition.

“You’re planning to train to be an Auror?” Severus studies Harry after topping up their drinks. “I’m surprised.”

“Are you?” Harry stares at Severus. “It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. I think people expect it.”

“I have no doubt.” Severus blows on his coffee to cool it. “Nevertheless, the world is yours for the taking. Do you want to go into Ministry politics and more battles?”

Something about that thought sits uneasily with Harry and the heavy fog returns. He shrugs. “I don’t know. I suppose I’ll just see how it goes.” Truthfully, he can’t imagine doing much fighting now. He wants to help but the thought of confronting people flinging spells into the night sky makes his stomach roll.

“You’re staying here to teach?” 

“I imagine so.” Severus doesn’t elaborate but once again, Harry’s not sure he’s being told the full truth. He watches as Severus drinks his coffee, taking in the firm jaw and the way Severus holds his cup with long, elegant fingers. It makes Harry feel a bit hot and restless again, the low pull of desire returning. When Severus catches Harry staring, he raises an eyebrow before raking his gaze over Harry. He puts his mug down and then stands, reaching for Harry.

As if in a dream, Harry stands too and follows Severus to his bedroom. He discards the blanket and stretches out on the bed as Severus moves over him. They kiss and it’s so much better in the warm space of the bedroom with the comfort of the bed beneath them both. Harry finds he wants everything. All the things he doesn’t know how to ask for. He kisses Severus fiercely, a strangled sound catching in the back of his throat. Severus has such clever fingers. They trace patterns on Harry’s chest and run lightly down his sternum. They twist Harry’s nipples lightly and massage his backside in a manner which has Harry nearly wanting to burst out of his skin with pleasure. It’s as if Severus wants to explore Harry all over – wants to touch him over and over until Harry’s mindless with pleasure. He bites back a groan when Severus moves one dry finger slowly over Harry’s hole, as if testing for Harry’s reaction.

“Yeah, that. _Please_.” Harry isn’t quite sure what he’s asking for, he just knows he wants it. He wants Severus to push inside him and do more brilliant things with his talented fingers. He aches with it. 

“Are you sure?” Severus’ voice is quiet and low and there’s something about the fact he’s checking again that makes Harry’s breath hitch.

“Yes.” Harry captures Severus’ lips in a messy kiss and it’s not long before Severus whispers a spell against Harry’s lips. Their breathing mingles, ragged and rough as Severus returns to Harry’s backside, his fingers cool and slick. The first slide inside Harry is strange, but so good it’s almost dizzying. Severus takes his time, slowly working with one finger before adding another. The spell seems to ease the slide and Severus’ long fingers connect with nerves inside Harry which send pleasure through his body. He finds himself rocking back on Severus’ fingers – finds himself kissing Severus greedily and taking every pleasure from having Severus inside him. He feels so wound up and so close he wants more. “Will you fuck me?”

“I am.” Severus whispers it to Harry, pushing his fingers deep into him. “There’s plenty of time. _Slowly_.”

It makes Harry’s head spin and he nods, biting his bottom lip and just enjoying the pleasure of Severus’ fingers working into him and making his brain almost melt out of his ears. The sinewy hardness of Severus against his skin makes him feel so good he’s nearly breathless with it. When Severus moves lower and takes Harry in his mouth again, the combination of two very different kinds of pleasure tips Harry over the edge. He comes with a shout, pushing up into Severus’ mouth with abandon.

When he finally comes to, Harry blinks at Severus. He traces his fingers down Severus’ chest and he follows their path with his eyes, before looking up at Severus again. “You should have fucked me. You didn’t get off.”

“I’m not in any particular rush.” Severus brushes Harry’s hair from his forehead and gives him a look. “Besides, if you think I don’t enjoy watching you enjoying yourself you’re clearly not paying attention.” Severus slides Harry’s hand to his cock, his breath stuttering when Harry wraps a hand around him. “You are…exquisite.”

“Am I?” Harry’s quite surprised by that, because he thinks he probably looks a bit daft with his pink cheeks and hair sticking up all over the place. He gives Severus a slow stroke and is gratified to hear the way the cadence of Severus’ breathing changes. “Do you like that too? With the fingers?”

Severus nods. “On occasion, although I prefer to do that to my partners.”

“Then what do you like best?” Harry strokes again, firming his hand and keeping a slow, measured pace.

Severus cups Harry’s cheek and looks at him with such intensity it makes Harry feel a bit dizzy. “A sinful mouth.” He brushes his thumb over Harry’s lips, parting them beneath the light pressure and sucking in a breath when Harry sucks his thumb between his lips. “Watching someone writhe and squirm beneath me.” His voice catches and he leans closer, kissing Harry with a soft groan. “Fucking. Hearing and seeing a beautiful man enjoying himself.”

 _Beautiful_. Harry’s too short and he’s not sure he’s got anything remotely _beautiful_ about him but Severus seems to think so. Severus definitely seems to think so. Harry presses closer to Severus and he strokes him with a little more confidence. He keeps his voice low and rough, whispering in Severus’ ear.

“I liked it when you did that.” He takes a breath. He’s really going to have to get better at this dirty talk lark. He has a feeling Severus quite likes it, if the way he already twitches in Harry’s hand is anything to go by. “I liked it when you used your fingers. I’ve never done that before, not even by myself. It feels so good.”

“ _Harry._ ” Severus’ voice is so ragged, Harry becomes emboldened by the response. As Severus pushes his fingers into Harry’s hair, Harry continues.

“I thought about you fucking me. I could feel your cock against me and I imagined you pinning me down and pushing into me. I think I’d like that. I think I’d like that very much.”

With a _nngh_ of pleasure, Severus spills over Harry’s fist. Harry strokes him through his orgasm and then releases him when Severus bats Harry’s hand away with a groan. He presses close to Severus, licking his chest where a little perspiration has gathered. He tastes masculine and salty and it makes Harry’s head spin with pleasure and desire.

“That was…acceptable?” Severus tips his head to look at Harry, running his tongue over his lips.

“I don’t have much experience but I’d say so.” Harry grins at Severus. He closes his eyes, a wave of exhaustion passing through him. “I think sex makes me tired, though.”

“I think lack of sleep makes you tired.” Severus runs his fingers through Harry’s hair and it’s incredibly relaxing. “Rest, Potter. I will still be here when you wake up.”

“Okay.” Harry nods and yawns. 

He falls asleep with Severus’ fingers sliding through his hair and he thinks he hears the castle sigh their names.

*

Harry wakes with a shout. Perspiration dots his body and he heaves in the air with a ragged gulp. He tries to find his glasses in the room but the table isn’t where it should be and he begins to panic a bit. It’s only when warm arms wrap around him that he begins to breathe normally, the murmur of Severus’ voice slow and steady in his ear.

“You’re in my rooms, Harry. It’s just a dream. Just another dream.”

Harry nods, running a shaking hand through his hair. He turns to Severus, who looks a bit fuzzy now Harry hasn’t got his glasses on. “Where did I put my glasses?”

Severus murmurs _Accio_ under his breath and the glasses fly into his hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Harry swallows, pushing his glasses on with a grimace. “I woke you. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

“It’s hardly your fault.” Severus brushes Harry’s hair from his forehead. “Besides, I have only just dozed off. It’s barely nine o’clock.”

“Have I slept all day?” Harry vaguely remembers going to sleep after a fantastic bout of sex. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You were obviously tired. I didn’t want to wake you. Do you need anything?”

A strange compulsion settles over Harry and he nods slowly. “I wouldn’t mind going to see our wall. It helped last night.”

“Do you wish to be alone?” 

Harry looks at Severus and despite feeling guilty for waking Severus he somehow knows that the question isn’t about Severus wanting to go back to sleep. There’s a hint of insecurity behind it, as if Harry might be looking for an excuse to get away from Severus.

“I’m happy to go on my own, but I’d prefer company if you don’t want to go straight back to sleep. The magic felt good last night when you were there. It was easier.”

“Well, then.” Severus stands and he pulls on some dark trousers. Harry’s surprised when he tugs on a black jumper and pushes the sleeves up. “Nine is far too early for bed.” 

“I thought you only had white shirts and black robes.”

Severus snorts. “I have a slightly more expansive wardrobe than that. I have at least two navy jumpers and a hideous green blazer which has never seen the light of day. A gift, from Draco. I believe it’s obscenely expensive.”

“We could probably sell it on the Muggle internet and take a holiday somewhere.” Harry grins at Severus. He clears his throat when he’s met with raised eyebrows. “Not that we have to go on holiday or anything.”

“No.” Severus shakes his head slightly and he turns his back on Harry, looking out at the night sky. “Are you ready?”

“Just about.” Harry tugs on his jeans and jumper and opens the door. When Severus falls into step beside him, Harry can’t stop himself from reaching for Severus’ hand. Their fingers twine together as they walk in comfortable silence.

“Potter…” Severus stops when they reach the wall. He sounds very unlike himself, his usual cool voice more high-pitched than usual.

Harry stares at the wall in front of them. There are no loose bricks on the floor. The hole is completely covered up and the wall looks as though it’s been there for years without suffering any damage. With a gulp, Harry steps forward and presses a hand to the bricks. The castle seems to hum to him, the steady song of something that sounds like distant merpeople swimming through Harry’s mind. His own magic hums back, throbbing through his veins and warming his whole body through. The steadying presence of Snape by his side is the only thing that stops Harry breaking down as two powerful waves of pain and happiness collide, rendering Harry utterly breathless. He can feel it all. The anguish of the war and the cries of a bitter history. The power and strength of restoration and the tangible taste of treacle tart and hope on his tongue. The hands on his shoulders squeeze and Harry leans back into the circle of Severus’ arms.

“Our wall…”

“It is…remarkable.” Severus sounds distinctly uncertain but he turns Harry, leaning him back against the bricks and looking at him with an unfathomable intensity. “I believe we have accomplished all that we set out to. If you wish to break the bond, I think now is the time.”

“No.” Harry puts his hands on Severus’ chest, keeping them apart. The panic makes him nearly dizzy. “We can’t. Is that what today was all about?”

“You know full well we have to break the bond between us.” Severus frowns at Harry. “It’s as we agreed.”

“Is that what you want?” 

Severus snarls, low in his throat. He presses Harry close to the wall. “Foolish boy. You’re not even twenty yet. You’re a teenager. You realise this is a marriage bond of sorts? You can’t possibly be suggesting that after less than forty-eight hours of tolerating one another we simply allow the bond to _exist_?”

It sounds ridiculous to Harry’s ears when he hears it out loud but something makes him think of the wizards with their strange tattoos in the book. He can’t help but think of the way the little globe in his room makes him feel when he wakes from another bad dream. He shoves his hand into his pocket and pushes Severus back, trying to catch his breath.

“Let’s do it, then. Right now, just like you said. Let’s break the bond, then I can go back to Grimmauld Place and the Ministry. You’ll be free to do what you want.”

“Harry.” Severus’ voice holds a hint of warning, but Harry pulls out his wand and gives Severus his best fierce look.

“You know what we need to do, I assume?”

Severus’ jaw works. “I have an idea.”

“Well then. Do it. Just _do it_.” The panic is still more pronounced and Harry wonders if he might be sick. Something about this doesn’t feel right. The magic humming through his veins whispers _wrong, wrong, wrong_. He knows it’s ridiculous. The rational part of him knows that of course they have to break the bond. He knows that if everything Severus said was true, the bond has nothing to do with the things he and Severus said to one another – the things they did together. Nevertheless, as Severus begins to cast slow spells the panic becomes fiercer and a hot pain shoots through Harry’s limbs. The air around him cools as his heart beats in his chest. Voices. Somewhere to the left. He turns his head, collapsing back against the wall which is soft against his back, like a mattress. Tears prick at his eyes when silvery moonlight breaks through the darkness of the corridor, bringing shadowy shapes into sharp relief. His mum and dad watch him, arms around one another and worried looks marking their young features. His mum looks distressed, her cheeks etched with tears. She reaches out a hand to Harry and his dad wraps an arm around her shoulder, shaking his head as he mouths something that Harry can’t quite catch.

 _Not your time, not your time, not your time_.

It’s so tempting, to leave the nightmares behind. The thick fog that’s followed Harry since the war clears a little. More figures step out of the shadows and the sight before him takes Harry’s breath away. Everything is warm and bright and the unhappy ache in his heart eases. There are _so many people_. So many people Harry loves. Sirius moves with an easy stride, almost close enough for Harry to touch. He looks so good. He’s dressed in smart velvet and his hair is loose around his shoulders. His smile is rakish and charming and Harry’s heart stutters and skips. Remus is there too, soft and worn but grinning at Harry. He’s younger than Harry remembers, a Gryffindor scarf wound tightly around his neck with the stain of a miscast spell at the bottom of the brightly coloured wool. A sliver of light emits from his wand and gathers around Harry like a blanket. Just as that first taste of chocolate eased the horror of the Dementors, the slide of familiar magic makes Harry gasp for air and he takes a step closer. There are so many children. So many people who lost their lives in the war. Fred’s laughter rings in Harry’s ears and Dumbledore whispers something to Harry’s mum, his eyes sparkling and familiar.

They look like angels, not ghosts. They’re more real than the transparent ghosts and they’re full of colour and warmth. Harry’s heart zings with it, his chest clenching with his desire to return to his family. Whatever magic kept him tethered to the castle seems to ease and he pushes himself off the wall. He wipes his cheeks with the back of his hand and finds them damp with tears. His lips taste of copper, salt and cinnamon. He takes a trembling step forwards but he can’t quite reach the hands that stretch out towards him in welcome. He struggles against the weight which makes his feet heavy and his head spin with warmth and cold, loss and relief. Something holds him back - strong arms wrap around his waist and a familiar voice murmurs in his ear. 

“ _Severus_ ,” Harry breathes. The warmth in his ear and the solid arms around him keep him from moving forwards. A shiver travels down the length of his spine and he sags back into Severus’ arms as the magic thrums around him. He can feel the castle now, he can hear its song. Harry doesn’t want to miss another moment of the afterlife he could have with the people watching him struggle between two possibilities, but he’s just starting with Severus. He felt things he’s never felt before and the thought of Severus, dark and lonely in his rooms, yanks Harry back to a present where Severus whispers in his ear, ragged and broken, and Harry can finally make out the words.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t you dare, Potter.”

The emotion is almost too much to bear – the loss of the people he loves too heavy. It vies with an unfamiliar flare of desire and a protective, jealous heart which burns hot in his chest. It’s as if the Mirror of Erised has split in two and Harry must decide which frame to focus on. The arms around him are so warm. _Severus_ is so warm. The now familiar magic tethers him in place and he looks up at the figures retreating into the shadows. He wants to yell and scream at them to come back but they move further and further into the darkness, until it’s just Dumbledore left.

“Here we are again.”

“Where am I?” Harry looks around, but it’s the same corridor as before with the same brick wall and the magic of Severus and the castle swirling around him.

“In between.” Dumbledore doesn’t elaborate. “I believe there is someone waiting for you.”

Harry looks into the darkness. “Am I dying?”

Dumbledore shakes his head. “Not unless you desire it.”

Harry’s chest clenches because he does. Sometimes, he does. He thinks of _quicker and easier than falling asleep_ and his strange sense of displacement in the post-war world he no longer knows how to live in. There’s a dark cloud of misery and loss which hangs over him some days. There are the nightmares which burn through his skin and the peculiar sense of nothing fitting quite right whatever he tries to do. The arms around him tighten and he has the strangest image in his mind. A small house in the countryside. A fire which burns restlessly with two pairs of slippers warming beside the hearth. The scent of potions and lavender assaults Harry’s senses. He’s sucking in the fresh air, faint with the lingering smokiness of wood-burning fires. He swoops through the air chasing a cloud and he laughs, his chest bursting with happiness. He closes his eyes and turns away from Dumbledore. Hot lips connect with his own and the kiss warms him to his toes. He wraps his arms around the solid body – around _Severus_ – and his kisses are full of the deepest, most powerful magic which slides through Harry’s veins, thick like treacle and so strong, so sure. 

There’s a tremble and the air around them shivers. The image in Harry’s mind darkens until it’s one of a cold hearth and a man hunched over a writing desk, scribbling on parchment. His hair is lank and greasy, falling around sallow features and a hooked nose. His eyes are black and his face twisted in a scowl. There’s no warmth, no happiness. It’s just a cold room and piles of parchment thrown about the place. 

_I have ghosts of my own._

_I am not a man to keep you tethered to the real world._

“You’re wrong,” Harry whispers. He kisses Severus back with all of his heart. His chest swells with it until finally he has to break the kiss with a gasp. He stumbles back, putting his hand out and connecting with the castle wall. It’s just cool stone. There’s no more singing, no more magic pulsing through his veins. He can feel the reassuring hum of his own magic and the warm comfort of Severus’ magic, but that’s it. He rubs his eyes and stares at Severus. The sight of Severus makes Harry’s heart thump in his chest. He looks _broken_. His lips are plump and well-kissed and his cheeks are flushed pink. His dark eyes flash with an intensity Harry hasn’t seen before and he looks scared, his mouth twisted in uncertainty. His jumper’s rumpled from where Harry clutched onto it and pulled himself deeper into the kiss. 

“Wrong?” Even Severus’ voice sounds hoarse, an unfamiliar tremor in it.

“Wrong about not keeping me tethered.” Harry’s heart finally stops racing and he moves closer to Severus, taking his hand. He looks at their fingers twined together before looking up at Severus. “Is it broken?” He already knows the answer, he thinks, but he wants to know if he’s right.

“No.” Severus disengages his hand from Harry’s and he rubs his thumb over his cheek, watching him intently. “Where did you go?”

“In between.” Harry shrugs, the memory of the shadowy figures fast receding as crisp, clean air fills his lungs. _Living_. It’s what he’s doing with every gulp of air and every beat, beat of his heart. “I’m not sure. I had a choice.”

“I see.” Severus’ lip curls and he looks away from Harry. “We have to see the Headmistress.”

“We could just go back to bed?” Harry offers, hopefully.

Severus turns to Harry with a snarl and he looks furious. “Trying to break the bond nearly killed you! Do you understand what this means?”

Harry frowns at Severus. “If it means we’re going to have to spend more time together, I’m alright with that.”

Severus lets out a strangled sound and he jabs his finger in the direction of the winding staircases. “We are going to see the Headmistress. Right away.”

“ _Fine_.” Harry falls into step next to Severus, trying to keep up. The memory of Severus’ kiss is still hot on his lips. He casts a glance at Severus out of the corner of his eye. “You brought me back, you know. I saw what it could be like. Our future, I mean. At least, I think that’s what it was.”

“We don’t have a future, you foolish child.” Severus speeds up, yanking at doors and moving down empty corridors with determined purpose. “You’re a teenager and I am…not.”

“Do you want to break the bond for me or for you?” Harry thinks he’s beginning to get a handle on Severus and he wonders if Severus knows Harry could hear his broken whispers of _stay, stay, stay_. Wonders if Severus knows Harry could feel the passion in their last frantic kiss from his lips to the tips of his toes. He’s not going to let Severus do this. He’s not going to let Severus squirrel himself away with his parchment and his ghosts, in a misguided desire to protect Harry from the possibility of a life with Severus. A life of _happiness_. 

“I will not allow you to throw away your life on me.”

“I’m not throwing anything away.” Harry reaches for Severus, touching their fingers together. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“Harry.” Severus stops walking, looking at Harry’s fingers against his own. He brushes his thumb over the back of Harry’s hand before winding his hand around Harry’s wrist and pulling him closer. He gives Harry a look which makes Harry’s whole body warm with a flush of unprompted desire. “You have no idea what kind of man I am.”

“I think I do, actually.” Harry closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in the sighs and whispers of a few hours prior. The air seems to fill with them, the sounds of ragged breathing and the taste of Severus on his tongue, salty with perspiration. He opens his eyes and presses closer to Severus. “No compulsion, you said. There’s nothing forcing me to be with you. It feels _good_. Better than anything, I think. Doesn’t it?”

Severus rubs his forehead and looks away, his voice low and rough. “Sex, Potter. It’s purely physical. Of course it feels good. The fact I’m capable of coaxing an orgasm or two from a nubile young body means nothing. This is nothing more than your sexual awakening. That will fade. These things always do. I, too, remember what it was like to be young and fancy myself in love. You will crave something different soon enough. You will leave in the end. People always do.”

A strange image of the Gryffindor scarf in Severus’ rooms makes Harry pause before he can shoot back an angry response. The memory of Remus flickers through Harry’s mind and he can see the stain on the edge of the wool, just like the stain on the scarf in Severus’ rooms which Harry hadn’t noticed before. He’s not sure why, but something makes him pull his wand from his pocket. He thinks of the way he feels when he’s close to Severus and the pull of the little globe in his living quarters. His stomach swoops as he looks forward and back, his memory of experiencing magic for the first time now interspersed with memories of Severus and the persistent image of the small fire blazing in a cottage in the country. He draws a breath and focuses his wand straight ahead.

“ _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

The Patronus which leaves Harry’s wand in silver wisps isn’t the stag Harry’s become so familiar with. Instead the Patronus takes on the shape of a wolf. It doesn’t look particularly menacing. It’s young and it bounds towards them. It nuzzles briefly at Harry and then it sits on its haunches, looking up at Severus with its head cocked. Severus pales and when he speaks his voice is hoarse.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I saw him earlier. Professor Lupin. He was wearing your scarf.” Harry swallows as he watches Severus reach a trembling hand towards Harry’s Patronus. “My Patronus is usually a stag. Like my dad. This is Moony. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot and Prongs.”

“I am…aware.” The wolf nuzzles Severus’ hand and then the magic slowly fades and the wolf turns, padding off down the corridor until it’s impossible to distinguish the wolf from the watery moonlight coming through the slender windows cut into the castle walls.

“Was he your first?” Harry releases his breath in a whoosh, watching Severus as his expression twists.

“No.” Severus gives Harry a sidelong look. “That came later.”

“Oh.” Harry bites his thumbnail, thinking of the strange expression on Severus’ face after their first moment together and the _not the sort of thing one should have to be brave about_. “But he mattered to you?”

“Very much. For a fleeting time.” Severus runs a hand through his hair and they continue walking, with less urgency this time. “You saw him?”

“I saw all of them.” Harry shrugs. “Remus, Sirius, my mum and dad, Dumbledore. Fred too and all the people from school who didn’t make it.”

“I see.” Severus looks thoughtful. 

“What do you think it means?”

“I’m not sure.” Severus sighs, looking briefly at Harry. “I have a tendency to push people away. Perhaps Lupin is trying to suggest that I might want to do things a little differently this time.”

“Perhaps.” Harry gives Severus a smile and then nods at the large door which he assumes leads to McGonagall’s quarters. “Do we still need to see the Headmistress?”

Severus nods. “I believe so. Irrespective of your enthusiasm for keeping the bond in place, I have some concerns about the way the bond affects us – you, in particular. I also believe we need to alert her to the unprecedented situation with the restoration of the castle. The sooner the better.”

“It’s not like I’m tired anymore, anyway.” Harry knocks on the door, waiting for McGonagall to answer. He really isn’t. He’s gone from battling a wave of exhaustion shortly after he and Severus tried to sever the bond, to a kind of restless adrenaline. He can’t imagine curling up and sleeping now. He looks at Severus out of the corner of his eye thinking about other ways of working off his pent-up energy and his cheeks heat as he imagines the things they might do – the things Harry wants to do. Severus catches him looking, raising one eyebrow in Harry’s direction. His lips twitch.

“Something on your mind, Potter?”

“Nope. Not a thing.” Harry clears his throat, but when Severus slips an arm around his waist and pulls him close, he’s not sure his evasion has been entirely successful.

Eventually the door opens and McGonagall peers at them both over the tip of her glasses. She looks as though she’s dressed hurriedly, but is otherwise as put together as ever with her hair in a tight bun.

“Gentlemen. It’s rather late for a visit. I assume this isn’t a social call?” She stands to one side and gestures for them to come in. When they’re all settled on comfortable sofas with a small nip of brandy each, McGonagall nudges her glasses up onto the bridge of her nose. “Severus?”

“We attempted to sever the bond this evening.” 

“I see.” McGonagall’s eyebrows rise. “You felt sufficiently connected to do so?”

“Yes.” 

Harry’s pleased to see Severus flushes slightly as he answers the question. Good. He’s glad he’s not the only one who feels more than a little uncomfortable with the implication behind the question.

“And?” McGonagall moves briskly on, thankfully uninterested in the finer points of their newfound connectivity.

“We returned to the damaged part of the castle we’ve been working to repair, only to find it fully restored.”

“Indeed?” McGonagall’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Hmm. Most unprecedented. I decided it was a sign of the bond being sufficiently settled to allow us to sever it. However, when I tried it nearly killed Potter.”

Harry snorts at that. “That’s not quite right.”

“No?” Severus gives Harry a look. “Then you explain what happened.”

Harry takes a breath, because he’s not sure he can. There’s something hazy and unreal about the memory of that moment, the figures he encountered already fading away like the fuzzy edges of clouds separating in the wind.

“I saw people who died. My parents. Sirius, Remus. Dum-Professor Dumbledore.” Harry looks at McGonagall, who gives him a nod of encouragement. “He said I was in between. He said I could choose if I wanted to go with them.” 

“To _die_.” Severus sounds furious, his words leaving him in a snarl.

Harry ignores the angry tone and continues. “I felt Severus behind me and I didn’t want to go. I held onto him a bit.” Harry clears his throat, the recollection of their searching kisses making heat flare in his cheeks. “Then everything else disappeared and I was back again.”

“You’re quite sure the bond hasn’t broken?” McGonagall looks to Severus, who nods, tightly.

“Quite sure.”

“How do we know, though?” Harry looks at Severus and then to McGonagall. “I don’t feel any different. I could feel Professor Snape’s magic before this all happened.”

Severus’ lips tighten. After a moment, he pushes up the sleeve of his jumper. “I, however, did not have this before you cast the spell. This is how I became aware of the bond in the first place.”

Harry looks at Severus’ arm. He’s seen Severus naked. He’s explored his body and kissed the most intimate parts of him, but he never noticed the small _H_ like a Muggle tattoo on Severus’ arm. It’s not exactly a part of Severus that Harry paid all that much attention to, but he still can’t believe he missed it. He frowns at Severus, a wave of unhappiness crashing over him. He doesn’t want his _brand_ on Severus, Christ it’s like…

Harry swallows and Severus must pick up on his discomfort. He shakes his head and gives Harry a look. “Don’t even think about making the comparison I’m sure is going through your head at the moment.”

“Why not?” Harry can’t help snapping, his voice clipped and angry. “At least you asked for the other one, you didn’t ask for any of this.”

Severus purses his lips, his eyes flashing. “Yes, please do remind me of my own foolish investment in the Dark Lord, Potter. How helpful of you to recall a moment of childish stupidity became a lifetime of penance.” His lips curl into a sneer. “I may not have _asked_ for this, but I can assure you that having an inoffensive letter on my arm is far less of a concern for me than the memories evoked by my other _tattoo_.”

“I didn’t say it was.” Harry rubs his jaw, looking away. “It’s just not what you asked for – none of this is. I don’t want you to be marked with anything because of me. Not without your consent. I don’t want to force you to do any of this.”

Severus lets out a low growl. “I’ve told you before, there’s no compulsion involved. Anything that may have happened has been because I desire it. You have no more control over me than Minerva does.”

Harry wants to strip off his own jumper to try to find if he has a mark too, but he’s fairly certain now isn’t the time. McGonagall stands, rummaging through her bookcase before returning with a large tome. She flicks through it, finally identifying what she’s looking for and reading quickly. Harry steals a look at Severus, taking in the way his jaw works and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. The anger leaves him and he reaches out, just to brush his fingers against Severus’ white-knuckled hand.

“Sorry. I didn’t want to bring up the other stuff.”

Severus brushes his thumb against Harry’s hand, before pulling away. “I know.” His lips twitch and he turns to Harry, his pinched expression relaxing. “That _other stuff_ is a rather euphemistic way of referring to my past.”

“Yeah.” Harry breathes out slowly and shrugs at Severus. “I know.”

“Take a look at this, Severus.” McGonagall shifts her chair close to Severus, pointing at the page identified a moment before. “You too, Harry.”

They gather close and Harry reads the information slowly, deciphering the somewhat archaic language and references to unfamiliar spells as best he can. It’s another bond, different to the previous one they looked at in the book Harry’s pored over in detail. There’s no suggestion of forced proximity, but somehow it feels more serious. Harry’s breath catches as he reads the detail again, drinking in the language which all seems to be about protection and power exchanges as opposed to any kind of marriage bond.

“It makes sense. I wondered if there was something I was missing. The response to certain magic before the spell was cast felt like an anomaly.” Severus sounds almost awed, and McGonagall hums her agreement.

They all shift back to their seats and McGonagall closes the book, thinking deeply before speaking. “Hogwarts is a peculiar place and you both have unusual experiences of war, a lifetime of fighting to protect the things you care about or the things circumstances have demanded you care about. You both have a particularly strong connection with the castle and powerful, emotion-driven magic.”

“That’s not a marriage bond.” Harry casts a look at Severus and then McGonagall. “It’s not like that at all.”

“No.” Severus shakes his head. “It appears to be more to do with magical exchanges and increasing power than anything remotely romantic or sexual.”

“Why wouldn’t everyone make use of a bond like that, then?” Harry doesn’t mention Voldemort, but he can tell by the way Severus frowns at him that he knows exactly what Harry’s thinking. Part of Harry can’t help the niggling fear of the impact being a Horcrux might have had and he presses his fingers to the scar on his forehead. He knows he’s not the same, but the Sorting Hat gave him the chance to be something like Voldemort and carrying part of his soul for so long must have had an impact of some sort. With that and the tattoos, Harry can’t help but feel panicky and bile rises in his throat. He doesn’t want to be part of some quest for power. He just wants to have the house in the countryside and maybe some excellent sex with Severus again. He wants hot, buttered toast for breakfast, the chance to push his toes into the sand and feel the warmth of the sun in some far off climes on his back. 

“The reason the bond is so rare is because one can’t use it for the sole purpose of gaining power.” Severus flicks his wand and calls the book over, opening it again and identifying a paragraph to show to Harry. “Those that have tried to do so have failed.”

“Then why us?” Harry asks. McGonagall looks a little watery eyed. It’s not a _bad_ look, though. It’s fond and she can’t seem to stop smiling.

“Oh, Severus.”

“ _Minerva_.” Severus sounds a bit hoarse and panicked. He grabs the book from Harry and stalks to the bookcase, pushing it back in place. His shoulders are tight and he keeps his back to them both. Harry has the strangest recollection of Dumbledore, his eyes twinkling. _Have you come to care for the boy after all?_

Harry rolls his eyes. “I wish you two would stop talking as if I’m not in the room. It’s really bloody annoying.”

“You said yourself something has been pulling you away from living since the war.” McGonagall casts a look at Severus, tutting under her breath. “Just as you can hear the castle – feel the castle – it can hear you. _Both_ of you. I think it might have seen an opportunity and taken it.”

“ _Hogwarts_ did this?” Harry laughs because the idea is almost as ridiculous as the fact Severus apparently now has an _H_ tattooed on his person. “It can’t just go around bonding people together. It probably should ask, at least.”

McGonagall chuckles and she nods her head. “Yes. I will have a word.”

“Do that.” Harry’s tempted to give a few of the bricks a ticking off, but he doesn’t want to stand there talking to a wall. He’d look like a right idiot. “Is it permanent?”

“I believe so.” McGonagall looks more serious. “The bond could be beneficial for you both if you work out how to channel it in the most effective manner. However, I don’t think either of you will come to any harm if you do not. That means you’re entirely free to go about your business as you wish, although I expect the castle might have something to say about it if Severus goes back to his usual antics. If I’m correct it intended to bring together two people who perhaps weren’t functioning as well alone.”

Harry looks at Severus, who seems a little hunched over the bookcase. “Severus?”

Severus turns, his cheeks a little pink. “I believe we have all the information we need. The important thing is there will be no harm to either of us should we wish to end this ridiculous charade.”

Harry tips his chin at Severus, shaking his head. “No you don’t.”

“I’m sorry?” Severus glares at Harry.

“No you bloody well don’t.” Harry shoots McGonagall a look. “He’s going to be a prat, isn’t he?”

“Most likely,” McGonagall agrees.

Harry stands and nods at McGonagall. “I reckon we’ve kept you up for long enough, Headmistress. We’ll be off.”

“Indeed.” McGonagall sounds amused. “Goodnight, then.”

“Night.” Harry opens the door and waits for Severus to follow him. He can hear the low murmur of Severus’ somewhat harried voice and McGonagall’s stern speech, but he doesn’t strain to make out the words. If Snape’s going to be an idiot, well. Harry’s just going to have to convince him not to be. He can think of one or two ways of doing that.

“You’re still here.” Severus closes the door behind him, finally leaving McGonagall’s rooms.

Harry stares at him, because really Severus can’t half be stupid sometimes. “Where did you think I’d be?”

Severus studies Harry but doesn’t respond. He looks away. “It’s too late to discuss the finer details of this tonight.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Harry replies easily. “Which is why we’re going to go back to your rooms and get some sleep. Then we can do some of the things we did earlier in the morning. There are one or two things I think I’d quite like to try.”

“Incorrigible.” Severus rolls his eyes but he doesn’t protest. They make their way through the corridors in silence until they reach Snape’s rooms. “If you wish to return to your own room tonight, I quite understand.”

Harry lets out a huff. “You don’t bloody get it, do you? I’m not here because I think I have to be. I didn’t do any of this out of some kind of weird obligation. I wanted to do all the stuff we did.” Harry shrugs. “To be honest, I want to do it all again as soon as we can.”

“You are…” Severus pauses, swallowing. He rubs his thumb against Harry’s cheek and his eyes are dark and intense, the way Harry likes best. When Severus looks at Harry like that it makes his heart thud wildly and it makes his body come alive with desire which pulses through him. 

“Annoying? A twit?” Harry raises an eyebrow at Severus who lets out a low laugh.

“Not exactly.” Severus searches Harry’s face. “I was going to say you are young.”

“I suppose.” Harry refuses to let Severus put him off. He pokes Severus in the belly, giving him a grin. “Are you worried about keeping up with me?”

Severus’ lips twitch and he slides his hand to Harry’s backside, pulling him close. “Impertinent brat. That is the least of my worries, I assure you.”

“Oh!” Harry pushes Severus back for a minute because it’s very distracting trying to form sentences when Severus is so close. “Can we check if I’ve got one of those bonding mark things?”

Severus looks as if he’s about to protest but then he nods. “Yes. We can check. Wouldn’t you prefer to get some sleep first?”

“I don’t think I can sleep at the moment.” Harry tugs Severus into his rooms and closes the doors behind them. The working space is still warm, with the remnants of the fire sending a cosy light about the place. Harry tugs off his jumper and checks his arms, a little disappointed when he can’t see anything. “It better not be on my backside,” he mutters.

“No. It’s not there.” Severus brushes his lips against Harry’s neck, wrapping his arms around Harry in a way which makes Harry shiver. “It’s here.”

Harry sucks in a breath as Severus brushes his lips over a spot on Harry’s back, just beneath his shoulder. “What is it?”

“It’s not quite what I expected.” Severus sounds almost surprised and Harry tries to twist to see.

“Is it awful?”

“To the contrary.” Severus brushes his fingers against the spot again, making Harry shiver. There’s something that feels particularly good about Severus touching him there. It makes Harry’s whole body feel warm. “It’s a little more detailed than mine. I believe it’s a phoenix.”

“Really?” Harry can’t help but feel a bit excited about that. “Can you show me?”

Severus steers Harry towards a mirror and then lets him see for himself. The tattoo is so perfect it takes Harry’s breath away. It’s ornate and intricate, glowing a little in the dim light from the fire. It looks like Snape’s magic feels. Strong, warm and protective. It makes Harry’s heart quicken and he peers at it more closely, thinking of the marks on the two wizards which so fascinated him. It seems like weeks and weeks ago now.

“Do you like it?” Severus sounds as if he likes it. He sounds as if he likes it very much, his voice rough. 

“Yeah.” Harry’s voice trembles a little and he manages to tear his gaze away from the tattoo, to look up at Severus. He feels oddly choked up. “Yours is rubbish, though. It’s just a letter and it looks weird.” Harry pushes up the jumper sleeve on Severus’ arm, staring at the somewhat crooked looking _H_ , which looks as if it’s been scribbled on in a hurry. It’s not at all the beautiful, intricate design of his own mark and he feels almost embarrassed. Perhaps that’s what his magic feels like to Snape. A hurried, childish scribble. Not much of a protection at all. It makes him feel impossibly small as he rubs his thumb over it, although he can’t help but notice the way the touch makes Snape shiver.

“Harry.” Severus’ voice is low and firm and he tips Harry’s chin a little so they’re eye to eye. “I can practically hear you worrying.”

“It’s just you’ve got a stupid messy letter and this…” Harry looks over his shoulder again at the gorgeous phoenix on his shoulder. “And I’ve got this.”

“You were right in your assumption that the very last thing I want is another mark. Another brand.” Severus holds up his hand when Harry starts to apologise. “ _This_ is not an ostentatious display of your power. It reminds me exactly of the kind of man you are.”

Harry lets out a choked laugh. “Childish and messy?”

Severus’ lips twitch. “Not exactly.” He brushes his lips to Harry’s and even that small touch sends a shiver of pleasure through Harry’s body. “Perhaps someone who has the potential to be powerful beyond his wildest dreams but seeks something rather different.”

“Oh.” Harry thinks about that and then pulls a face. “I’m nothing special though, when it comes to magic. I’m no Hermione.”

“Perhaps not,” Severus concedes. “But you have celebrity and the unwavering support of most of wizarding Britain at the moment. Many would choose to use that to their own advantage.”

Harry thinks of the countless offers he’s received for celebrity endorsements and jobs at organisations he hasn’t even heard of. He knows Kingsley means well, but he also can’t help but wonder about the way he assured Harry that he would have a place at the Ministry irrespective of his final exam results. He furrows his brow and studies Severus.

“The phoenix makes me feel safe. I can’t see how that does anything.”

Severus looks away briefly, his lips tightening. “I have spent many years in the servitude of a wizard seduced by power, on a madman’s quest for immortality. The Dark Lord was terribly eager to demonstrate his prowess at any given moment, typically with violence. I think you underestimate how reassuring a lack of interest in reminding me of your capabilities is to a man with my history. The fact the mark itself is hesitant reminds me that you have no interest in the kind of branding or ownership my previous bonding required.”

“Don’t say it like that. It wasn’t a bond. Not like ours.” Harry strokes his thumb over the little letter and it makes him feel lighter. There’s something about its imperfections and subtle undercurrent of magic that reminds him of the globe he found so endearing when he arrived at Hogwarts. He looks at it critically and his lips tug into a small smile. Perhaps it’s not so bad after all.

“Precisely my point.” Severus brushes Harry’s hair from his forehead. 

“Why do you think mine’s so different, then?” Harry looks at the phoenix again before turning back to Severus, who takes a careful moment to respond.

“There are certain things I am incapable of putting into words. I believe this is a reminder that those things, even when left unsaid, are no less true.”

Harry feels warm all over and he kisses Severus before yawning. “Sorry.”

“No matter. Sleep, I believe. You’re still tired from multiple disturbed nights.” Severus takes a step back from Harry and busies himself rearranging parchment on his desk. “You are staying?”

Harry notices the tightness in Severus’ shoulders, almost as if he expects Harry to leave after everything. “I’m not that easy to get rid of, Severus.”

“No.” Severus looks at Harry, his eyes dark pools and his expression almost surprised. “You’re not.”

Harry picks up his discarded jumper and strips out of his trousers before getting into bed. It’s warm under the duvets and there’s a pleasant heat which pools in his stomach when the bed dips next to him. Ignoring Snape’s protests of Harry being far too hot and limpet-like, Harry shuffles as close as he can.

He falls asleep with his cheek against Severus’ warm chest, his ear pressed against the steady beat of his heart.

*

Harry wakes before Severus and he gets out of bed carefully, not wanting to wake Severus. He pads to the bathroom and uses a spell to clean his teeth, letting the water run and splashing his face with it. He turns around to study the phoenix on his back again and it gives him the same flash of awe he felt when he saw it the previous evening. If anything, it’s even more beautiful in the daylight. He inspects it closely, thinking about the sorts of things Severus might keep unsaid which would inspire such a tattoo.

When he’s quite sure Severus is still sound asleep, he goes into the main quarters and searches through the bookshelves until he finds a book on magical creatures. He retrieves a dusty old leather-bound magical encyclopaedia and returns to bed with it, thumbing through as quietly as he can before he finds an entry relating to the phoenix.

The same words keep cropping up again and again. Renewal. Rebirth. Fire. Sun. Harry knows all of that already. He knows what a phoenix is and how it comes back from a pile of ashes. He closes the book, nudging his glasses up on his nose and staring into space. He frowns and thinks about his earlier conversations with Severus and the suggestion Severus might be preoccupied with ghosts of his own.

_You could hold onto me for a bit_

Perhaps Harry’s not the only one who’s been under a dark fog since the war ended. He’s certainly not the only one thinking about ghosts of the past. The sensation of Severus pulling him back to himself with kisses and the strength of his magic makes Harry wonder if perhaps it feels the same way for Severus too, sometimes. Perhaps that’s what the phoenix is all about. Coming out of the ashes. Starting something new. Learning to live again. He can’t quite believe that Severus might feel like that about Harry. That having Harry in his life could matter that much to Severus. A lump rises in Harry’s throat and he turns on his side, watching Severus as he sleeps.

“You’re staring,” Severus mutters, his eyes still closed.

“Just a little bit.” Harry tries to pick his words carefully. “Severus?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you always going to stay at Hogwarts for the new term?”

Severus opens his eyes finally, contemplating Harry. “I had not fully decided.”

“Oh.” The air around Harry feels chilly and he tugs the duvet around them. He shifts closer to Severus for warmth more than anything. He really doesn’t want to get distracted, or at least not just yet. “The thing is, I think it’s important that it’s a phoenix. I think maybe it’s meant to symbolise a new start, don’t you?”

Severus doesn’t say anything for a moment. Eventually, he nods. “Perhaps.”

“Because I don’t want to be an Auror, I don’t think.” Harry watches Severus closely for his reaction. “I wondered if I might be able to do my exams after all. Perhaps teach a bit of Quidditch, too; Hooch – I mean Madame Hooch – isn’t coming back this term.”

“No.” Severus arches an eyebrow at Harry. “You wish to become a student again?”

“Not really, if I can help it.” Harry pulls a face. “I want to keep doing this for a start and I’m not sure having me in Potions class is going to do much for either of us. But maybe I could help out with Quidditch and study in private. You could help me study.”

“I could help you study?” Severus boggles at Harry. “Can I remind you how well private tuition has worked out on previous occasions?”

“But this is different.” Harry gives Severus what he hopes is a sufficiently filthy smile. “Besides, you’ve been alright at teaching me some things.”

Severus pinches the bridge of his nose and mutters something under his breath, before turning his attention back on Harry. “I can’t imagine the Headmistress would refuse such an offer. She’s been rather keen to bring you back here for some time.” Severus rolls his eyes. “She seemed to think it might be good for you.”

“I think she might have been right.” Harry pauses. “I think the castle might be good for both of us. Do you think you might change your mind about…leaving?”

“I think…” Severus takes a moment and when he speaks, his voice is a little rough. He moves a hand into Harry’s hair, toying with it. “I think I would be rather foolish to take any rash decisions under the circumstances. The newest Slytherins are likely to need some guidance.”

“Yeah, that’s what I reckon too.” Harry closes his eyes, enjoying the sensation of Severus running his fingers through his hair and settling on the nape of his neck. When he opens them again, Severus has a peculiar expression on his face, as if he can’t quite believe Harry’s real. “So maybe we can both stay here for a bit? Work on this bond thing and I can get my exams? Then…well, then we can do whatever we want I suppose. See some of the places on that globe of yours. I think I’d like to travel.”

Severus frowns. “You know there’s no requirement for us to be close in order for the bond to flourish? If we don’t wish to engage with it, I think it will simply lapse and the tattoos will fade over time.”

“I knew you hated yours.” Harry gives Severus a look. “Is that what you want?”

“Not particularly.” Severus rolls onto his back and he looks at the ceiling. “Although I expect the more we encourage the bond the harder it will be to break.”

“Maybe.” Harry kisses Severus’ neck and enjoys the way his breath hitches. “But it looks pretty permanent anyway, so we might as well take advantage of it. Besides, I like my tattoo. I don’t want it to fade. It doesn’t seem quite right, letting a phoenix die off when it’s just got started.”

“Indeed.” Severus sounds a little faint.

“Yeah. I’ve been reading about them. They last for ages usually. Hundreds of years.”

“Is that so?” Severus groans low in his throat as Harry moves a little lower down his body. Emboldened, Harry swipes his tongue over Severus’ nipple and is rewarded with a hiss of pleasure. “ _Potter_.”

“So we’re agreed?” Harry positions himself over Severus and moves further down, brushing his hand between Severus’ thighs to seek out his prize. He’s rewarded with hard, delicious heat and he runs his fingers along the line of Severus’ cock. It’s enough to make him salivate. “Lots of this and magical exchanges and all of that bollocks.”

“I’m not sure sex has anything to do with the bond. The book didn’t imply-”

“Severus?” Harry cuts Severus off mid-flow.

“Yes?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a Slytherin?”

Severus stares at Harry for a moment, his eyes dark and intense. After a heartbeat, his lips curve into a smirk.

“Quite right, Potter. Based on my years of academic research I actually believe frequent sexual intercourse would prove _most_ beneficial.”

Harry takes Severus’ cock in his hand and gives it a couple of firm strokes which draw a very pleasing huff of pleasure from Severus. He grins at Severus before ducking his head down to focus on the task at hand. 

“Thought so.”

It’s a long time later before either of them says anything else and when Harry’s sweaty, sticky and curled up next to Severus, the tattoo on his shoulder heats and for a moment Harry almost imagines he can hear the castle sing.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3733744.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1670727.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/976005.html).


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